Samuel  JH.  Crotljens 


HUMANLY    SPEAKING. 

AMONG    FRIENDS. 

BY   THE   CHRISTMAS    FIRE. 

THE   PARDONER'S    WALLET. 

THE    ENDLESS    LIFE. 

THE   GENTLE    READER. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES:  THE  AUTO 
CRAT  AND  HIS  FELLOW  BOARDERS.  With 
Portrait. 

MISS  MUFFET'S  CHRISTMAS  PARTY.  Illus 
trated. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 


HUMANLY   SPEAKING 


HUMANLY 
SPEAKING 

BY  SAMUEL  McCHORD  CROTHERS 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 

MDCCCCXII 


COPYRIGHT,    1912,   BY   SAMUEL   McCHORD   CROTHERS 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  November  iqi2 


CONTENTS 

HUMANLY   SPEAKING vii 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER    ...  i 

THE  CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS  OF  ROME     .  16 

THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT.         .         .  55 

THE  UNACCUSTOMED  EARS  OF  EUROPE     .  85 

THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS       .         .         .  114 

THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS     .         .         .  143 

THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN  OF  CIVILIZATION  167 

ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT         .         .  183 

TO  A  CITIZEN  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  .         .  196 


The  author  wishes  to  express  his  thanks  to  the  Editors  of  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  and  the  Century  Magazine  for  their  courtesy 
in  permitting  the  publication  in  this  volume  of  certain  essays 
which  have  appeared  in  their  magazines. 


252488 


HUMANLY   SPEAKING 


HUMANLY  speaking,  it  is  impossible."  So 
the  old  theologian  would  say  when  denying 
any  escape  from  his  own  argument.  His  logical 
machine  was  going  at  full  speed,  and  the  grim 
engineer  had  no  notion  of  putting  on  the  brakes. 
His  was  a  non-stop  train  and  there  was  to  be  no 
slowing-down  till  he  reached  the  terminus. 

But  in  the  middle  of  the  track  was  an  indu 
bitable  fact.  By  all  the  rules  of  argumentation  it 
had  no  business  to  be  there,  trespassing  on  the 
right  of  way.  But  there  it  was !  We  trembled  to 
think  of  the  impending  collision. 

But  the  collision  between  the  argument  and 
the  fact  never  happened.  The  "humanly  speak 
ing"  was  the  switch  that  turned  the  argument 
safely  on  a  parallel  track,  where  it  went  whiz 
zing  by  the  fact  without  the  least  injury  to 
either.  Many  things  which  are  humanly  speak 
ing  impossible  are  of  the  most  common  occur 
rence  and  the  theologian  knew  it. 


viii  HUMANLY  SPEAKING 

It  is  only  by  the  use  of  this  saving  clause  that 
one  may  safely  moralize  or  generalize  or  indulge 
in  the  mildest  form  of  prediction.  Strictly  speak 
ing,  no  one  has  a  right  to  express  any  opinion 
about  such  complex  and  incomprehensible  ag 
gregations  of  humanity  as  the  United  States  of 
America  or  the  British  Empire.  Humanly  speak 
ing,  they  both  are  impossible.  Antecedently  to 
experience  the  Constitution  of  Utopia  as  ex 
pounded  by  Sir  Thomas  More  would  be  much 
more  probable.  It  has  a  certain  rational  coher 
ence.  If  it  existed  at  all  it  would  hang  together, 
being  made  out  of  whole  cloth.  But  how  does 
the  British  Empire  hold  together?  It  seems  to 
be  made  of  shreds  and  patches.  It  is  full  of 
anomalies  and  temporary  makeshifts.  Why  mil 
lions  of  people,  who  do  not  know  each  other, 
should  be  willing  to  die  rather  than  to  be  sepa 
rated  from  each  other,  is  something  not  easily 
explained.  Nevertheless  the  British  Empire  ex 
ists,  and,  through  all  the  changes  which  threaten 
it,  grows  in  strength. 

The  perils  that  threaten  the  United  States  of 
America  are  so  obvious  that  anybody  can  see 
them.  So  far  as  one  can  see,  the  Republic  ought 


HUMANLY  SPEAKING  ix 

to  have  been  destroyed  long  ago  by  political  cor 
ruption,  race  prejudice,  unrestricted  immigration 
and  the  growth  of  monopolies.  The  only  way  to 
account  for  its  present  existence  is  that  there  is 
something  about  it  that  is  not  so  easily  seen. 
Disease  is  often  more  easily  diagnosed  than  health. 
But  we  should  remember  that  the  Republic  is  not 
out  of  danger.  It  is  a  very  salutary  thing  to  bring 
its  perils  to  the  attention  of  the  too  easy-going 
citizens.  It  is  well  to  have  a  Jeremiah,  now  and 
then,  to  speak  unwelcome  truths. 

But  even  Jeremiah,  when  he  was  denouncing 
the  evils  that  would  befall  his  country,  had  a  sav 
ing  clause  in  his  gloomy  predictions.  All  manner 
of  evils  would  befall  them  unless  they  repented, 
and  humanly  speaking  he  was  of  the  opinion  that 
they  could  n't  repent.  Said  he:  "Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin  or  the  leopard  his  spots'?  then 
may  ye  also  do  good  that  are  accustomed  to  do 
evil."  Nevertheless  this  did  not  prevent  him  from 
continually  exhorting  them  to  do  good,  and 
blaming  them  when  they  did  n't  do  it.  Like  all 
great  moral  teachers  he  acted  on  the  assumption 
that  there  is  more  freedom  of  will  than  seemed 
theoretically  possible.  It  was  the  same  way  with 


x  HUMANLY  SPEAKING 

his  views  of  national  affairs.  Jeremiah's  reputa 
tion  is  that  of  a  pessimist.  Still,  when  the  country 
was  in  the  hands  of  Nebuchadnezzar  and  he  was 
in  prison  for  predicting  it,  he  bought  a  piece  of 
real  estate  which  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
He  considered  it  a  good  investment.  "I  sub 
scribed  the  deed  and  sealed  it,  and  called  witnesses 
and  weighed  him  the  money  in  the  balances." 
Then  he  put  the  deeds  in  an  earthen  vessel,  "that 
they  may  continue  many  days."  For  in  spite  of  the 
panic  that  his  own  words  had  caused,  he  believed 
that  the  market  would  come  up  again.  "Houses 
and  vineyards  shall  yet  be  bought  in  this  land."  If 
I  were  an  archaeologist  with  a  free  hand,  I  should 
like  to  dig  in  that  field  in  Anathoth  in  the  hope 
of  finding  the  earthen  jar  with  the  deed  which 
Hanameel  gave  to  his  cousin  Jeremiah,  for  a  plot 
of  ground  that  nobody  else  would  buy. 

It  is  the  moralists  and  the  reformers  who  have 
after  all  the  most  cheerful  message  for  us.  They 
are  all  the  time  threatening  us,  yet  for  our  own 
good.  They  see  us  plunging  heedlessly  to  destruc 
tion.  They  cry,  "Look  out!"  They  often  do  not 
themselves  see  the  way  out,  but  they  have  a  well- 
founded  hope  that  we  will  discover  a  way  when 


HUMANLY  SPEAKING  xi 

our  attention  is  called  to  an  imminent  danger. 
The  fact  that  the  race  has  survived  thus  far  is  an 
evidence  that  its  instinct  for  self-preservation  is  a 
strong  one.  It  has  a  wonderful  gift  for  recovering 
after  the  doctors  have  given  it  up. 

The  saving  clause  is  a  great  help  to  those  ideal 
ists  who  are  inclined  to  look  unwelcome  facts  in 
the  face.  It  enables  them  to  retain  faith  in  their 
ideals,  and  at  the  same  time  to  hold  on  to  their 
intellectual  self-respect. 

There  are  idealists  of  another  sort  who  know 
nothing  of  their  struggles  and  self-contradictions. 
Having  formed  their  ideal  of  what  ought  to  be, 
they  identify  it  with  what  is.  For  them  belief  in 
the  existence  of  good  is  equivalent  to  the  obliter 
ation  of  evil.  Their  world  is  equally  good  in  all 
its  parts,  and  is  to  be  viewed  in  all  its  aspects 
with  serene  complacency. 

Now  this  is  very  pleasant  for  a  time,  especially 
if  one  is  tired  and  needs  a  complete  rest.  But  after 
a  while  it  becomes  irksome,  and  one  longs  for  a 
change,  even  if  it  should  be  for  the  worse.  We 
are  floating  on  a  sea  of  beneficence,  in  which  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  sink.  But  though  one  could 
not  easily  drown  in  the  Dead  Sea,  one  might 


xii  HUMANLY  SPEAKING 

starve.  And  when  goodness  is  of  too  great  speci 
fic  gravity  it  is  impossible  to  get  on  in  it  or  out 
of  it.  This  is  disconcerting  to  one  of  an  active 
disposition.  It  is  comforting  to  be  told  that  every 
thing  is  completely  good,  till  you  reflect  that  that 
is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  nothing  can 
be  made  any  better,  and  that  there  is  no  use  for 
you  to  try. 

Now  the  idealist  of  the  sterner  sort  insists  on 
criticizing  the  existing  world.  He  refuses  to  call 
good  evil  or  evil  good.  The  two  things  are,  in 
his  judgment,  quite  different.  He  recognizes  the 
existence  of  good,  but  he  also  recognizes  the  fact 
that  there  is  not  enough  of  it.  This  he  looks  upon 
as  a  great  evil  which  ought  to  be  remedied.  And 
he  is  glad  that  he  is  alive  at  this  particular  junc 
ture,  in  a  world  in  which  there  is  yet  room  for 
improvement. 

Besides  the  ordinary  Christian  virtues  I  would 
recommend  to  any  one,  who  would  fit  himself 
to  live  happily  as  well  as  efficiently,  the  cultiva 
tion  of  that  auxiliary  virtue  or  grace  which 
Horace  Walpole  called  "  Serendipity."  Walpole 
defined  it  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Horace  Mann :  "  It  is 


HUMANLY  SPEAKING  xiii 

a  very  expressive  word,  which,  as  I  have  nothing 
better  to  tell  you,  I  shall  endeavor  to  explain  to 
you  ;  you  will  understand  it  better  by  the  deriva 
tion  than  by  the  definition.  I  once  read  a  silly 
fairy  tale  called  4  The  Three  Princes  of  Serendip.' 
As  their  Highnesses  traveled,  they  were  always 
making  discoveries,  by  accidents  and  sagacity, 
of  things  which  they  were  not  in  quest  of.  ... 
Now  do  you  understand  Serendipity?  "  In  case 
the  reader  does  not  understand,  Walpole  goes  on 
to  define  "  Serendipity  "  as  "  accidental  sagacity 
(for  you  must  know  that  no  discovery  you  are 
looking  for  comes  under  this  description)." 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  in  such  a  world  as 
this,  where  our  hold  on  all  good  is  precarious,  a 
man  should  be  on  the  lookout  for  dangers.  Eter 
nal  vigilance  is  the  price  we  pay  for  all  that  is 
worth  having.  But  when,  prepared  for  the  worst, 
he  goes  forward,  his  journey  will  be  more  pleas 
ant  if  he  has  also  a  "  serendipitaceous"  mind. 
He  will  then,  by  a  sort  of  accidental  sagacity, 
discover  that  what  he  encounters  is  much  less 
formidable  than  what  he  feared.  Half  of  his 
enemies  turn  out  to  be  friends  in  disguise,  and 
half  of  the  other  half  retire  at  his  approach.  After 


xiv  HUMANLY  SPEAKING 

a  while  such  words  as  "impracticable"  and  "im 
possible  "  lose  their  absoluteness  and  become  only 
synonyms  for  the  relatively  difficult.  He  has 
so  often  found  a  way  out,  where  humanly  speak 
ing  there  was  none,  that  he  no  longer  looks  upon 
a  logical  dilemma  as  a  final  negation  of  effort. 

The  following  essays  were  written  partly  at 
home  and  partly  abroad.  They  therefore  betray 
the  influence  of  some  of  the  mass  movements  of 
the  day.  Any  one  with  even  a  little  leisure  from 
his  own  personal  affairs  must  realize  that  we  are 
living  in  one  of  the  most  stirring  times  in  human 
history.  Everywhere  the  old  order  is  changing. 
Everywhere  there  are  confused  currents  both  of 
thought  and  feeling. 

That  the  old  order  is  passing  is  obvious  enough. 
That  a  new  order  is  arising,  and  that  it  is  on 
the  whole  beneficent,  is  not  merely  a  pious  hope. 
It  is  more  than  this :  it  is  a  matter  of  observation 
to  any  one  with  a  moderate  degree  of  "  Seren 
dipity." 


IN   THE  HANDS  OF  A   RECEIVER 


IT  sometimes  happens  that  a  business  man  who 
is  in  reality  solvent  becomes  temporarily  em 
barrassed  His  assets  are  greater  than  his  liabili 
ties,  but  they  are  not  quick  enough  to  meet  the 
situation.  The  liabilities  have  become  mutinous 
and  bear  down  upon  him  in  a  threatening  mob. 
If  he  had  time  to  deal  with  them  one  by  one,  all 
would  be  well ;  but  he  cannot  on  the  instant  mo 
bilize  his  forces. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  law  allows  him 
to  surrender,  not  to  the  mob,  but  to  a  friendly 
power  which  shall  protect  the  interests  of  all  con 
cerned.  He  goes  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver, 
who  will  straighten  out  his  affairs  for  him.  I  can 
imagine  the  relief  which  would  come  to  one  who 
could  thus  get  rid,  for  a  while,  of  his  harassing 
responsibilities,  and  let  some  one  else  do  the 
worrying. 

In  these  days  some  of  the  best  people  I  know 
are  in  this  predicament  in  regard  to  their  moral 


"<£  '  Iff  THE  -HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

and  social  affairs.  These  friends  of  mine  have  this 
peculiarity,  that  they  are  anxious  to  do  their  duty. 
Now,  in  all  generations,  there  have  been  persons 
who  did  their  duty,  according  to  their  lights. 
But  in  these  days  it  happens  that  a  new  set  of 
lights  has  been  turned  on  suddenly,  and  we  all 
see  more  duties  than  we  had  bargained  for.  In 
the  glare  we  see  an  army  of  creditors,  each  with 
an  overdue  bill  in  hand.  Each  demands  immedi 
ate  payment,  and  shakes  his  head  when  we  sug 
gest  that  he  call  again  next  week.  We  realize 
that  our  moral  cash  in  hand  is  not  sufficient  for 
the  crisis.  If  all  our  obligations  must  be  met  at 
once,  there  will  be  a  panic  in  which  most  of  our 
securities  will  be  sacrificed. 

We  are  accustomed  to  grumble  over  the  in 
crease  in  the  cost  of  living.  But  the  enhancement 
of  price  in  the  necessities  of  physical  life  is  no 
thing  compared  to  the  increase  in  the  cost  of  the 
higher  life. 

There  are  those  now  living  who  can  remember 
when  almost  any  one  could  have  the  satisfaction 
of  being  considered  a  good  citizen  and  neighbor. 
All  one  had  to  do  was  to  attend  to  one's  own 
affairs  and  keep  within  the  law.  He  would  then 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER    3 

be  respected  by  all,  and  would  deserve  the  most 
eulogistic  epitaph  when  he  came  to  die.  By  work 
ing  for  private  profit  he  could  have  the  satisfac 
tion  of  knowing  that  all  sorts  of  public  benefits 
came  as  by-products  of  his  activity. 

But  now  all  such  satisfactions  are  denied.  To 
be  a  good  citizen  you  must  put  your  mind  on 
the  job,  and  it  is  no  easy  one.  You  must  be  up 
and  doing.  And  when  you  are  doing  one  good 
thing  there  will  be  keen-eyed  critics  who  will  ask 
why  you  have  not  been  doing  other  things  which 
are  much  more  important;  and  they  will  sternly 
demand  of  you,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  such 
criminal  negligence  *?  " 

What  we  call  the  awakening  of  the  social  con 
science  marks  an  important  step  in  progress. 
But,  like  all  progress,  it  involves  hardship  to  in 
dividuals.  For  the  higher  moral  classes,  the  saints 
and  the  reformers,  it  is  the  occasion  of  whole 
hearted  rejoicing.  It  is  just  what  they  have,  all 
the  while,  been  trying  to  bring  about.  But  I  con 
fess  to  a  sympathy  for  the  middle  class,  morally 
considered,  the  plain  people,  who  feel  the  pinch. 
They  have  invested  their  little  all  in  the  old- 
fashioned  securities,  and  when  these  are  depreci- 


4     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

ated  they  feel  that  there  is  nothing  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  After  reading  a  few  search 
ing  articles  in  the  magazines  they  feel  that,  so 
far  from  being  excellent  citizens,  they  are  little 
better  than  enemies  of  society.  I  am  not  pleading 
for  the  predatory  rich,  but  only  for  the  well- 
meaning  persons  in  moderately  comfortable  cir 
cumstances,  whose  predatoriness  has  been  sud 
denly  revealed  to  them. 

Many  of  the  most  conscientious  persons  go 
about  with  an  habitually  apologetic  manner.  They 
are  rapidly  acquiring  the  evasive  air  of  the  con 
scious  criminal.  It  is  only  a  very  hardened  phil 
anthropist,  or  an  unsophisticated  beginner  in  good 
works,  who  can  look  a  sociologist  in  the  eye. 
Most  persons,  when  they  do  one  thing,  begin  to 
apologize  for  not  doing  something  else.  They  are 
like  a  one-track  railroad  that  has  been  congested 
with  traffic.  They  are  not  sure  which  train  has 
the  right  of  way,  and  which  should  go  on  the 
siding.  Progress  is  a  series  of  rear-end  collisions. 

There  is  little  opportunity  for  self-satisfaction. 
The  old-fashioned  private  virtues  which  used  to 
be  exhibited  with  such  innocent  pride  as  family 
heirlooms  are  now  scrutinized  with  suspicion. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     5 

They  are  subjected  to  rigid  tests  to  determine 
their  value  as  public  utilities. 

Perhaps  I  may  best  illustrate  the  need  of  some 
receivership  by  drawing  attention  to  the  case  of 
my  friend  the  Reverend  Augustus  Bagster. 

Bagster  is  not  by  nature  a  spiritual  genius;  he 
is  only  a  modern  man  who  is  sincerely  desirous 
of  doing  what  is  expected  of  him.  I  do  not  think 
that  he  is  capable  of  inventing  a  duty,  but  he  is 
morally  impressionable,  and  recognizes  one  when 
it  is  pointed  out  to  him.  A  generation  ago  such 
a  man  would  have  lived  a  useful  and  untroubled 
life  in  a  round  of  parish  duties.  He  would  have 
been  placidly  contented  with  himself  and  his 
achievements.  But  when  he  came  to  a  city  pulpit 
he  heard  the  Call  of  the  Modern.  The  multitud 
inous  life  around  him  must  be  translated  into 
immediate  action.  His  conscience  was  not  merely 
awakened :  it  soon  reached  a  state  of  persistent 
insomnia. 

When  he  told  me  that  he  had  preached  a  ser 
mon  on  the  text,  "Let  him  that  stole  steal  no 
more,"  I  was  interested.  But  shortly  after,  he  told 
me  that  he  could  not  let  go  of  that  text.  It  was 
a  live  wire.  He  had  expanded  the  sermon  into  a 


6     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

course  on  the  different  kinds  of  stealing.  He  found 
few  things  that  did  not  come  under  the  category 
of  Theft.  Spiritual  goods  as  well  as  material 
might  be  stolen.  If  a  person  possessed  a  cheerful 
disposition,  you  should  ask,  "How  did  he  get  it?" 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "that  a  cheerful  dis 
position  is  one  of  the  things  where  possession  is 
nine  tenths  of  the  law.  I  don't  like  to  think  of 
such  spiritual  wealth  as  ill-gotten." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Bagster,  "to  see  that  your 
sympathies  are  with  the  privileged  classes." 

Several  weeks  ago  I  received  a  letter  which 
revealed  his  state  of  mind:  — 

"  I  believe  that  you  are  acquainted  with  the 
Editor  of  the 'Atlantic  Monthly.'  I  suppose  he 
means  well,  but  persons  in  his  situation  are  likely 
to  cater  to  mere  literature.  I  hope  that  I  am  not 
uncharitable,  but  I  have  a  suspicion  that  our  poets 
yield  sometimes  to  the  desire  to  please.  They  are 
perhaps  unconscious  of  the  subtle  temptation. 
They  are  not  sufficiently  direct  and  specific  in 
their  charges.  I  have  been  reading  Walt  Whit 
man's  '  Song  of  Joys.'  The  subject  does  not  at 
tract  me,  but  I  like  the  way  in  which  it  is  treated. 
There  is  no  beating  around  the  bush.  The  poet 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER    7 

is  perfectly  fearless,  and  will  not  let  any  guilty 
man  escape. 

" '  O  the  farmer's  joys  ! 

Ohioans,  Illinoisans,  Wisconsonese,  {Canadians, 
lowans,  Kansans,  Oregonese  joys.' 

"  That  is  the  way  one  should  write  if  he  ex 
pects  to  get  results.  He  should  point  to  each  in 
dividual  and  say,  '  Thou  art  the  man.' 

"  I  am  no  poet,  —  though  I  am  painfully  con 
scious  that  I  ought  to  be  one,  —  but  I  have  writ 
ten  what  I  call,  '  The  Song  of  Obligations/  I 
think  it  may  arouse  the  public.  In  such  matters 
we  ought  to  unite  as  good  citizens.  You  might 
perhaps  drop  a  postal  card,  just  to  show  where 
you  stand." 

THE    SONG    OF    OBLIGATIONS 

"  O  the  citizen's  obligations. 

The  obligation  of  every  American  citizen  to  see  that 
every  other  American  citizen  does  his  duty,  and 
to  be  quick  about  it. 

The  janitor's  duties,  the  Board  of  Health's  duties,  the 
milkman's  duties,  resting  upon  each  one  of  us  in 
dividually  with  the  accumulated  weight  of  every 
cubic  foot  of  vitiated  air,  and  multiplied  by  the 
number  of  bacteria  in  every  cubic  centimeter  of 
milk. 


8     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

The  motorman's  duties,  and  the  duty  of  every  spry  citi 
zen  not  to  allow  himself  to  be  run  over  by  the 
motorman. 

The  obligation  of  teachers  in  the  public  schools  to  sup 
ply  their  pupils  with  all  the  aptitudes  and  graces 
formerly  supposed  to  be  the  result  of  heredity  and 
environment. 

The  duty  of  each  teacher  to  consult  daily  a  card  cata 
logue  of  duties,  beginning  with  Apperception  and 
Adenoids  and  going  on  to  Vaccination,  Ventila 
tion,  and  the  various  vivacious  variations  on  the 
three  R's. 

The  obligation  resting  upon  the  well-to-do  citizen  not 
to  leave  for  his  country  place,  but  to  remain  in  the 
city  in  order  to  give  the  force  of  his  example,  in 
his  own  ward,  to  a  safe  and  sane  Fourth  of  July. 

The  obligation  resting  upon  every  citizen  to  write  to 
his  Congressman. 

The  obligation  to  speak  to  one's  neighbor  who  may 
think  he  is  living  a  moral  life,  and  who  yet  has 
never  written  to  his  Congressman. 

The  obligation  to  attend  hearings  at  the  State  House. 

The  obligation  to  protest  against  the  habit  of  em 
ployees  at  the  State  House  of  professing  ignor 
ance  of  the  location  of  the  committee-room  where 
the  hearings  are  to  be  held ;  also  to  protest  against 
the  habit  of  postponing  the  hearings  after  one  has 
at  great  personal  inconvenience  come  to  the  State 
House  in  order  to  protest. 

The   duty  of  doing    your   Christmas    shopping    early 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     9 

enough  in  July  to  allow  the  shop-girls  to  enjoy 
their  summer  vacation. 

The  duty  of  knowing  what  you  are  talking  about,  and 
of  talking  about  all  the  things  you  ought  to  know 
about. 

The  obligation  of  feeling  that  it  is  a  joy  and  a  privi 
lege  to  live  in  a  country  where  eternal  vigilance  is 
the  price  of  liberty,  and  where  even  if  you  have 
the  price  you  don't  get  all  the  liberty  you  pay  for." 

I  was  a  little  troubled  over  this  effusion,  as  it 
seemed  to  indicate  that  Bagster  had  reached  the 
limit  of  elasticity.  A  few  days  later  I  received  a 
letter  asking  me  to  call  upon  him.  I  found  him 
in  a  state  of  uncertainty  over  his  own  condition. 

"  I  want  you,"  he  said,  "  to  listen  to  the  report 
my  stenographer  has  handed  me,  of  an  address 
which  I  gave  day  before  yesterday.  I  have  been 
doing  some  of  my  most  faithful  work  recently, 
going  from  one  meeting  to  another  and  helping 
in  every  good  cause.  But  at  this  meeting  I  had  a 
rare  sensation  of  freedom  of  utterance.  I  had  the 
sense  of  liberation  from  the  trammels  of  time  and 
space.  It  was  a  realization  of  moral  ubiquity.  All 
the  audiences  I  had  been  addressing  seemed  to 
flow  together  into  one  audience,  and  all  the  good 
causes  into  one  good  cause.  Incidentally  I  seemed 


io     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

to  have  solved  the  Social  Question.  But  now  that 
I  have  the  stenographic  report  I  am  not  so  cer 
tain." 

"  Read  it,"  I  said. 

He  began  to  read,  but  the  confidence  of  his 
pulpit  tone,  which  was  one  of  the  secrets  of  his 
power,  would  now  and  then  desert  him,  and  he 
would  look  up  to  me  as  if  waiting  for  an  encour 
aging  "  Amen." 

"Your  secretary,  when  she  called  me  up  by 
telephone,  explained  to  me  the  object  of  your 
meeting.  It  is  an  object  with  which  I  deeply  sym 
pathize.  It  is  Rest.  You  stand  for  the  idea  of 
poise  and  tranquillity  of  spirit.  You  would  have 
a  place  for  tranquil  meditation.  The  thought  I 
would  bring  to  you  this  afternoon  is  this:  We 
are  here  not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be. 

"But  of  course  the  thought  at  once  occurs  to 
us,  How  can  we  be  considering  the  high  cost  of 
the  necessaries  of  life  ?  It  will  be  seen  at  once 
that  the  question  is  at  bottom  an  economic  one. 
You  must  have  a  living  wage,  and  how  can  there 
be  a  living  wage  unless  we  admit  the  principle 
of  collective  bargaining.  It  is  because  I  believe 
in  the  principle  of  collective  bargaining  that  I 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     n 

have  come  here  to-night  to  say  to  you  working- 
men  that  I  believe  this  strike  is  justifiable. 

"  I  must  leave  to  other  speakers  many  interest 
ing  aspects  of  this  subject,  and  confine  myself  to 
the  aspect  which  the  committee  asked  me  to  con 
sider  more  in  detail,  namely,  Juvenile  Delin 
quency  in  its  relation  to  Foreign  Immigration. 
The  relation  is  a  real  one.  Statistics  prove  that 
among  immigrants  the  proportion  of  the  juvenile 
element  is  greater  than  among  the  native-born. 
This  increase  in  juvenility  gives  opportunity  for 
juvenile  delinquency  from  which  many  of  our 
American  communities  might  otherwise  be  free. 
But  is  the  remedy  to  be  found  in  the  restriction 
of  immigration  *?  My  opinion  is  that  the  remedy 
is  to  be  found  only  in  education. 

"  It  is  our  interest  in  education  that  has  brought 
us  together  on  this  bright  June  morning.  Your 
teacher  tells  me  that  this  is  the  largest  class  that 
has  ever  graduated  from  this  High  School.  You 
may  well  be  proud.  Make  your  education  prac 
tical.  Learn  to  concentrate,  that  is  the  secret  of 
success.  There  are  those  who  will  tell  you  to 
concentrate  on  a  single  point.  I  would  go  even 
further.  Concentrate  on  every  point. 


12     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

"  I  admit,  as  the  gentleman  who  has  preceded 
me  has  pointed  out,  that  concentration  in  cities 
is  a  great  evil.  It  is  an  evil  that  should  be  coun 
teracted.  As  I  was  saying  last  evening  to  the 
Colonial  Dames,  —  Washington,  if  he  had  done 
nothing  else,  would  be  remembered  to-day  as  the 
founder  of  the  Order  of  the  Cincinnati.  The  fig 
ure  of  Cincinnatus  at  the  plough  appeals  power 
fully  to  American  manhood.  Many  a  time  in  after 
years  Cincinnatus  wished  that  he  had  never  left 
that  plough.  Often  amid  the  din  of  battle  he  heard 
the  voice  saying  to  him,  '  Back  to  the  Land ! ' 

"  It  was  the  same  voice  I  seemed  to  hear  when 
I  received  the  letter  of  your  secretary  asking  me 
to  address  this  grange.  As  I  left  the  smoke  of  the 
city  behind  me  and  looked  up  at  your  granite 
hills,  I  said,  4  Here  is  where  they  make  men ! ' 
As  I  have  been  partaking  of  the  bountiful  repast 
prepared  by  the  ladies  of  the  grange,  your  chair 
man  has  been  telling  me  something  about  this 
community.  It  is  a  grand  community  to  live  in. 
Here  are  no  swollen  fortunes;  here  industry,  fru 
gality,  and  temperance  reign.  These  are  the  qual 
ities  which  have  given  New  England  its  great 
place  in  the  councils  of  the  nation.  I  know  there 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     13 

are  those  who  say  that  it  is  the  tariff  that  has 
given  it  that  place ;  but  they  do  not  know  New 
England.  There  are  those  at  this  table  who  can 
remember  the  time  when  eighty-two  ruddy- 
cheeked  boys  and  girls  trooped  merrily  to  the 
little  red  schoolhouse  under  the  hill.  In  the  light 
of  such  facts  as  these,  who  can  be  a  pessimist  ? 

"But  I  must  not  dwell  upon  the  past;  the 
Boy  Scouts  of  America  prepare  for  the  future.  I 
am  reminded  that  I  am  not  at  this  moment  ad 
dressing  the  Boy  Scouts  of  America,  —  they  come 
to-morrow  at  the  same  hour,  —  but  the  principle 
is  the  same.  Even  as  the  Boy  Scouts  of  America 
look  only  at  the  future,  so  do  you.  We  must  not 
linger  fondly  on  the  days  when  cows  grazed  on 
Boston  Common.  The  purpose  of  this  society  is 
to  save  Boston  Common.  That  the  Common  has 
been  saved  many  times  before  is  true ;  but  is  that 
any  reason  why  we  should  falter  now  ?  *  New  oc- 
N  casions  teach  new  duties.'  Let  us  not  be  satisfied 
with  a  superficial  view.  While  fresh  loam  is  be 
ing  scattered  on  the  surface,  commercial  interests 
and  the  suburban  greed  to  get  home  quick  are 
striking  at  the  vitals  of  the  Common.  Citizens 
of  Boston,  awake ! 


H     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

"Your  pastor  had  expected  to  be  with  you 
this  evening,  but  he  has  at  the  last  moment  dis 
covered  that  he  has  two  other  engagements,  each 
of  them  of  long  standing.  He  has  therefore  asked 
me  to  take  his  place  in  this  interesting  course  of 
lectures  on  Church  History.  The  subject  of  the 
lecture  for  the  evening  is  —  and  if  I  am  mistaken 
some  one  will  please  correct  me  —  Ulphilas,  or 
Christianity  among  the  Goths.  I  cannot  treat  this 
subject  from  that  wealth  of  historical  information 
possessed  by  your  pastor ;  but  I  can  at  least  speak 
from  the  heart.  I  feel  that  it  is  well  for  us  to  turn 
aside  from  the  questions  of  the  day,  for  the  quiet 
consideration  of  such  a  character  as  Ulphilas. 

"  Ulphilas  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  those 
characters  we  ought  all  to  know  more  about.  I 
shall  not  weary  you  by  discussing  the  theology 
of  Ulphilas  or  the  details  of  his  career.  It  would 
seem  more  fitting  that  these  things  should  be  left 
for  another  occasion.  I  shall  proceed  at  once  to 
the  main  lesson  of  his  life.  As  briefly  as  possi 
ble  let  me  state  the  historical  situation  that  con 
fronted  him.  It  is  immaterial  for  us  to  inquire 
where  the  Goths  were  at  that  time,  or  what  they 
were  doing.  It  is  sufficient  for  us  to  know  that 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     15 

the  Goths  at  that  time  were  pagans,  mere  hea 
then.  Under  those  circumstances  what  did  Ulphi- 
las  do  2  He  went  to  the  Goths.  That  one  act  re 
veals  his  character.  If  in  the  remaining  moments 
of  this  lecture  I  can  enforce  the  lesson  for  us  of 
that  one  act,  I  shall  feel  that  my  coming  here 
has  not  been  in  vain. 

"But  some  one  who  has  followed  my  argu 
ment  thus  far  may  say,  '  All  that  you  have  said 
is  true,  lamentably  true ;  but  what  has  it  to  do 
with  the  Advancement  of  Woman  ? '  I  answer, 
it  is  the  Advancement  of  Woman." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out  *?  "  I  asked. 

Bagster  looked  vaguely  troubled.  "There  is 
no  such  thing  as  an  isolated  moral  phenomenon," 
he  said,  as  if  he  were  repeating  something  from 
a  former  sermon ;  "  when  you  attempt  to  remedy 
one  evil  you  find  it  related  to  a  whole  moral  series. 
But  perhaps  I  did  not  make  the  connection  plain. 
My  address  does  n't  seem  to  be  as  closely  rea 
soned  as  it  did  when  I  was  delivering  it.  Does  it 
seem  to  you  to  be  cogent  *?  " 

"Cogent  is  not  precisely  the  word  I  would 
use.  But  it  seems  earnest." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bagster.  "  I  always  try  to 


1 6     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

be  earnest.  It  Js  hard  to  be  earnest  about  so  many 
things.  I  am  always  afraid  that  I  may  not  give 
to  all  an  equal  emphasis." 

"  And  now  that  you  have  stopped  for  a  mo 
ment,"  I  suggested,  "  perhaps  you  would  be  will 
ing  to  skip  to  the  last  page.  When  I  read  a  story 
I  am  always  anxious  to  get  to  the  end.  I  should 
like  to  know  how  your  address  comes  out,  —  if 
it  does  come  out." 

Bagster  turned  over  a  dozen  pages  and  read  in 
a  more  animated  manner. 

"  Your  chairman  has  the  reputation  of  making 
the  meetings  over  which  he  presides  brisk  and 
crisp.  He  has  given  me  just  a  minute  and  a  half 
in  which  to  tell  what  the  country  expects  of  this 
Federation  of  Young  People.  I  shall  not  take  all 
the  time.  I  ask  you  to  remember  two  letters  — 
E  and  N.  What  does  the  country  expect  this 
Federation  to  do?  E —  everything.  When  does 
the  country  expect  you  to  do  it  ?  N  —  now.  Re 
member  these  two  letters  —  E  and  N.  Young 
people,  I  thank  you  for  your  attention. 

"The  hour  is  late.  You,  my  young  brother, 
have  listened  to  a  charge  in  which  your  urgent 
duties  have  been  fearlessly  declared  to  you.  When 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     17 

you  have  performed  these  duties,  others  will  be 
presented  to  you.  And  now,  in  token  of  our  con 
fidence  in  you,  I  give  you  the  right  hand  of  fel-  " 
lowship. 

"  And  do  you  know,"  said  Bagster,  "  that  when 
I  reached  to  give  him  the  right  hand  of  fellow 
ship,  he  was  n't  there." 

We  sat  in  silence  for  some  time.  At  last  he 
asked,  hesitatingly,  "  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? 
In  your  judgment  is  it  organic  or  functional?" 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  organic.  I  am  afraid  that 
your  conscience  has  been  over-functioning  of  late, 
and  needs  a  rest.  I  know  a  nook  in  the  woods  of 
New  Hampshire,  under  the  shadow  of  Mount 
Chocorua,  where  you  might  go  for  six  months 
while  your  affairs  are  in  the  hands  of  a  receiver. 
I  can't  say  that  you  would  find  everything  satis 
factory,  even  there.  The  mountain  is  not  what  it 
used  to  be.  It  is  decadent,  geologically  speaking, 
and  it  suffered  a  good  deal  during  the  last  glacial 
period.  But  you  can't  do  much  about  it  in  six 
months.  You  might  take  it  just  as  it  is,  —  some 
things  have  to  be  taken  that  way. 

"  You  will  start  to-morrow  morning  and  begin 
your  life  of  temporary  irresponsibility.  You  will 


1 8     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

have  to  give  up  your  problems  for  six  months,  but 
you  may  rest  assured  that  they  will  keep.  You 
will  go  by  Portsmouth,  where  you  will  have 
ten  minutes  for  lunch.  Take  that  occasion  for  a 
leisurely  meal.  A  card  will  be  handed  to  you 
assuring  you  that  'The  bell  will  ring  one  minute 
before  the  departure  of  the  train.  You  can't  get 
left.'  Hold  that  thought:  you  can't  get  left;  the 
railroad  authorities  say  so." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  it,"  asked  Bagster. 

"  Once,"  I  answered. 

"  And  did  you  get  left  ?  " 

"  Portsmouth,"  I  said,  "  is  a  beautiful  old  town. 
I  had  always  wanted  to  see  it.  You  can  see  a 
good  deal  of  Portsmouth  in  an  afternoon." 

The  predicament  in  which  my  friend  Bagster 
finds  himself  is  a  very  common  one.  It  is  no  longer 
true  that  the  good  die  young ;  they  become  pre 
maturely  middle-aged.  In  these  days  conscience 
doth  make  neurasthenics  of  us  all.  Now  it  will 
not  do  to  flout  conscience,  and  by  shutting  our 
eyes  to  the  urgencies  and  complexities  of  life  pur 
chase  for  ourselves  a  selfish  calm.  Neither  do  we 
like  the  idea  of  neurasthenia. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     19 

My  notion  is  that  the  twentieth-century  man 
is  morally  solvent,  though  he  is  temporarily  em 
barrassed.  He  will  find  himself  if  he  is  given  suf 
ficient  time.  In  the  mean  time  it  is  well  for  him 
to  consider  the  nature  of  his  embarrassment.  He 
has  discovered  that  the  world  is  "so  full  of  a  num 
ber  of  things,"  and  he  is  disappointed  that  he  is 
not  as  "  happy  as  kings  "  —  that  is,  as  kings  in  the 
fairy  books.  Perhaps  "  sure  enough  "  kings  are  not 
as  happy  as  the  fairy-book  royalties,  and  perhaps 
the  modern  man  is  only  experiencing  the  anxieties 
that  belong  to  his  new  sovereignty  over  the  world. 

There  are  tribes  which  become  confused  when 
they  try  to  keep  in  mind  more  than  three  or  four 
numbers.  It  is  the  same  kind  of  confusion  which 
comes  when  we  try  to  look  out  for  more  than 
Number  One.  We  mean  well,  but  we  have  not 
the  facilities  for  doing  it  easily.  In  fact,  we  are 
not  so  civilized  as  we  sometimes  think. 

For  example,  we  have  never  carried  out  to  its 
full  extent  the  most  important  invention  that 
mankind  has  ever  made  —  money.  Money  is  a 
device  for  simplifying  life  by  providing  a  means 
of  measuring  our  desires,  and  gratifying  a  number 
of  them  without  confusion. 


20     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

Money  is  a  measure,  not  of  commodities,  but 
of  states  of  mind.  The  man  in  the  street  expresses 
a  profound  philosophy  when  he  says,  "  I  feel  like 
thirty  cents."  That  is  all  that  "thirty  cents"  means. 
It  is  a  certain  amount  of  feeling. 

You  see  an  article  marked  "  $  l  .50."  You  pass 
by  unmoved.  The  next  day  you  see  it  on  the 
bargain  counter  marked  "  98  cents,"  and  you  say, 
"Come  to  my  arms,"  and  carry  it  home.  You  did 
not  feel  like  a  dollar  and  a  half  toward  it,  but  you 
did  feel  exactly  like  ninety-eight  cents. 

It  is  because  of  this  wonderful  measure  of  value 
that  we  are  able  to  deal  with  a  multitude  of  diverse 
articles  without  mental  confusion. 

I  am  asked  to  stop  at  the  department  store  and 
discover  in  that  vast  aggregation  of  goods  a  skein 
of  silk  of  a  specified  shade,  and  having  found  it 
bring  it  safely  home.  Now,  I  am  not  fitted  for  such 
an  adventure.  Left  to  my  own  devices  I  should 
be  helpless. 

But  the  way  is  made  easy  for  me.  The  floor 
walker  meets  me  graciously,  and  without  chiding 
me  for  not  buying  the  things  I  do  not  want,  di 
rects  me  to  the  one  thing  which  would  gratify  my 
modest  desire.  I  find  myself  in  a  little  place  de- 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     21 

voted  to  silk  thread,  and  with  no  other  articles  to 
molest  me  or  make  me  afraid.  The  world  of  com 
modities  is  simplified  to  fit  my  understanding.  I 
feel  all  the  gratitude  of  the  shorn  lamb  for  the 
tempered  wind. 

At  the  silken  shrine  stands  a  Minerva  who  im 
parts  her  wisdom  and  guides  my  choice.  The  silk 
thread  she  tells  me  is  equivalent  to  five  cents. 
Now,  I  have  not  five  cents,  but  only  a  five-dollar 
bill.  She  does  not  act  on  the  principle  of  taking 
all  that  the  traffic  will  bear.  She  sends  the  five- 
dollar  bill  through  space,  and  in  a  minute  or  two 
she  gives  me  the  skein  and  four  dollars  and  ninety- 
five  cents,  and  I  go  out  of  the  store  a  free  man.  I 
have  no  misgivings  and  no  remorse  because  I  did 
not  buy  all  the  things  I  might  have  bought.  No 
one  reproached  me  because  I  did  not  buy  a  four- 
hundred-dollar  pianola.  Thanks  to  the  great  in 
vention,  the  transaction  was  complete  in  itself. 
Five  cents  represented  one  choice,  and  I  had  in 
my  pocket  ninety-nine  choices  which  I  might  re 
serve  for  other  occasions. 

But  there  are  some  things  which,  as  we  say, 
money  cannot  buy.  In  all  these  things  of  the 
higher  life  we  have  no  recognized  medium  of 


22     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

exchange.  We  are  still  in  the  stage  of  primitive 
barter.  We  must  bring  all  our  moral  goods  with 
us,  and  every  transaction  involves  endless  dicker 
ing.  If  we  express  an  appreciation  for  one  good 
thing,  we  are  at  once  reproached  by  all  the  traf 
fickers  in  similar  articles  for  not  taking  over  bod 
ily  their  whole  stock  in  trade. 

For  example,  you  have  a  desire  for  culture. 
You  have  n't  the  means  to  indulge  in  very  much, 
but  you  would  like  a  little.  You  are  immediately 
beset  by  all  the  eager  Matthew  Arnolds  who  have 
heard  of  your  desire,  and  they  insist  that  you 
should  at  once  devote  yourself  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  best  that  has  been  known  and  said  in  the 
world.  All  this  is  very  fine,  but  you  don't  see 
how  you  can  afford  it.  Is  n't  there  a  little  of  a 
cheaper  quality  that  they  could  show  you?  Per 
haps  the  second  best  would  serve  your  purpose. 
At  once  you  are  covered  with  reproaches  for  your 
philistinism. 

You  had  been  living  a  rather  prosaic  life  and 
would  like  to  brighten  it  up  with  a  little  poetry. 
What  you  would  really  like  would  be  a  modest 
James  Whitcomb  Riley's  worth  of  poetry.  But 
the  moment  you  express  the  desire  the  Uni- 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     23 

versity  Extension  lecturer  insists  that  what  you 
should  take  is  a  course  of  lectures  on  Dante.  No 
wonder  that  you  conclude  that  a  person  in  your 
circumstances  will  have  to  go  without  any  poetry 
at  all. 

It  is  the  same  way  with  efforts  at  social  right 
eousness.  You  find  it  difficult  to  engage  in  one 
transaction  without  being  involved  in  others  that 
you  are  not  ready  for.  You  are  interested  in  a 
social  reform  that  involves  collective  action.  At 
once  you  are  told  that  it  is  socialistic.  You  do  not 
feel  that  it  is  any  worse  for  that,  and  you  are 
quite  willing  to  go  on.  But  at  once  your  social 
istic  friends  present  you  with  the  whole  pro 
gramme  of  their  party.  It  is  all  or  nothing. 
When  it  is  presented  in  that  way  you  are  likely 
to  become  discouraged  and  fall  back  on  nothing. 

Now,  if  we  had  a  circulating  medium  you 
would  express  the  exact  state  of  your  desires 
somewhat  in  this  way:  "Here  is  my  moral  dol 
lar.  I  think  I  will  take  a  quarter's  worth  of  So 
cialism,  and  twelve  and  a  half  cents'  worth  of 
old-time  Republicanism,  and  twelve  and  a  half 
cents  of  genuine  Jeffersonian  democracy,  if  there 
is  any  left,  and  a  quarter's  worth  of  miscellaneous 


24     IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER 

insurgency.  Let  me  see,  I  have  a  quarter  left. 
Perhaps  I  may  drop  in  to-morrow  and  see  if  you 
have  anything  more  that  I  want." 

The  sad  state  of  my  good  friend  Bagster  arises 
from  the  fact  that  he  can't  do  one  good  thing 
without  being  confused  by  a  dozen  other  things 
which  are  equally  good.  He  feels  that  he  is  a 
miserable  sinner  because  his  moral  dollar  is  not 
enough  to  pay  the  national  debt. 

But  though  we  have  not  yet  been  able  ade 
quately  to  extend  the  notion  of  money  to  the 
affairs  of  the  higher  life,  there  have  been  those 
who  have  worked  on  the  problem. 

That  was  what  Socrates  had  in  mind.  The 
Sophists  talked  eloquently  about  the  Good,  the 
True,  and  the  Beautiful;  but  they  dealt  in  these 
things  in  the  bulk.  They  had  no  way  of  divid 
ing  them  into  sizable  pieces  for  everyday  use. 
Socrates  set  up  in  Athens  as  a  broker  in  ideas. 
He  dealt  on  the  curb.  He  measured  one  thing  in 
terms  of  another,  and  tried  to  supply  a  sufficient 
amount  of  change  for  those  who  were  not  ashamed 
to  engage  in  retail  trade. 

Socrates  draws  the  attention  of  Phsedrus  to  the 
fact  that  when  we  talk  of  iron  and  silver  the  same 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  A  RECEIVER     25 

objects  are  present  to  our  minds,  "  but  when  any 
one  speaks  of  justice  and  goodness,  there  is  every 
sort  of  disagreement,  and  we  are  at  odds  with  one 
another  and  with  ourselves." 

What  we  need  to  do  he  says  is  to  have  an 
idea  that  is  big  enough  to  include  all  the  par 
ticular  actions  or  facts.  Then,  in  order  to  do  busi 
ness,  we  must  be  able  to  divide  this  so  that  it  may 
serve  our  convenience.  This  is  what  Socrates 
called  Philosophy. 

"  I  am  a  great  lover,"  he  said,  "  of  the  processes 
of  division  and  generalization;  they  help  me  to 
speak  and  think.  And  if  I  find  any  man  who  is 
able  to  see  unity  and  plurality  in  nature,  him  I 
follow,  and  walk  in  his  steps  as  if  he  were  a  god." 

Even  in  the  Forest  of  Arden  life  was  not  so 
simple  as  at  first  it  seemed.  The  shepherd's  life 
which  "in  respect  of  itself  was  a  good  life"  was 
in  other  respects  quite  otherwise.  Its  unity  seemed 
to  break  up  into  a  confusing  plurality.  Honest 
Touchstone,  in  trying  to  reconcile  the  different 
points  of  view,  blurted  out  the  test  question, 
"  Hast  any  philosophy  in  thee,  Shepherd  ?  " 
After  Bagster  has  communed  with  Chocorua  for 
six  months,  I  shall  put  that  question  to  him. 


THE    CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS    OF 
ROME 


YOU  here,  Bagster  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  as  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel  I  saw  an  anxious  face  gazing 
down  into  a  mirror  in  which  were  reflected  the 
dimmed  glories  of  the  ceiling.  There  was  an 
anxiety  as  of  one  who  was  seeking  the  Truth 
of  Art  at  the  bottom  of  the  well. 

One  who  is  in  the  habit  of  giving  unsolicited 
advice  is  likely  to  take  for  granted  that  his  advice 
has  been  acted  upon,  even  though  experience 
should  teach  him  that  this  is  seldom  the  case. 
I  had  sagely  counseled  Bagster  to  go  to  the  New 
Hampshire  woods,  in  order  to  recuperate  after 
his  multifarious  labors.  I  was  therefore  surprised 
to  find  him  playing  truant  in  Rome. 

My  salutation  did  not  at  first  cause  him  to  look 
up.  He  only  made  a  mysterious  sign  with  his 
hand.  It  was  evidently  a  gesture  which  he  had 
recently  learned,  and  was  practiced  as  a  sort  of 
exorcism. 


ROME  27 

"  I  am  not  going  to  sell  you  cameos  or  post 
cards,"  I  explained. 

When  he  recognized  a  familiar  face,  Bagster 
forgot  all  about  the  Last  Judgment,  and  we  were 
soon  out-of-doors  and  he  was  telling  me  about 
himself. 

"  I  meant  to  go  to  Chocorua  as  you  suggested, 
but  the  congregation  advised  otherwise,  so  I  came 
over  here.  It  seemed  the  better  thing  to  do.  Up 
in  New  Hampshire  you  can't  do  much  but  rest, 
but  here  you  can  improve  your  taste  and  collect 
a  good  deal  of  homiletic  material.  So  I  've  settled 
down  in  Rome.  I  want  to  have  time  to  take  it 
all  in." 

"  Do  you  begin  to  feel  rested  *? "  I  asked. 

"Not  yet.  It's  harder  work  than  I  thought  it 
would  be.  There 's  so  much  to  take  in,  and  it 's 
all  so  different.  I  don't  know  how  to  arrange  my 
material.  What  I  want  to  do,  in  the  first  place, 
is  to  have  a  realizing  sense  of  being  in  Rome. 
What's  the  use  of  being  here  unless  you  are  here 
in  the  spirit? 

"What  I  mean  is  that  I  should  like  to  feel  as 
I  did  when  I  went  to  Mount  Vernon.  It  was 
one  of  those  dreamy  autumn  days  when  the  leaves 


28        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

were  just  turning.  There  was  the  broad  Potomac, 
and  the  hospitable  Virginia  mansion.  I  had  the 
satisfying  sense  that  I  was  in  the  home  of  Wash 
ington.  Everything  seemed  to  speak  of  Washing 
ton.  He  filled  the  whole  scene.  It  was  a  great 
experience.  Why  can 't  I  feel  that  way  about  the 
great  events  that  happened  down  there?" 

We  were  by  this  time  on  the  height  of  the  Jan- 
iculum  near  the  statue  of  Garibaldi.  Bagster  made 
a  vague  gesture  toward  the  city  that  lay  beneath 
us.  There  seemed  to  be  something  in  the  scene 
that  worried  him.  "  I  can't  make  it  seem  real,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  continually  to  say  to  myself, '  That 
is  Rome,  Italy,  and  not  Rome,  New  York.'  I 
can't  make  the  connection  between  the  place  and 
the  historical  personages  I  have  read  about.  I 
can't  realize  that  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  was 
written  to  the  people  who  lived  down  there.  Just 
back  of  that  new  building  is  the  very  spot  where 
Romulus  would  have  lived  if  he  had  ever  existed. 
On  those  very  streets  Scipio  Africanus  walked, 
and  Caesar  and  Cicero  and  Paul  and  Marcus  Au- 
relius,  and  Epictetus  and  Belisarius,  and  Hilde- 
brand  and  Michelangelo,  and  at  one  time  or  an 
other  about  every  one  you  ever  heard  of.  And 


OF   ROME  29 

how  many  people  came  to  get  emotions  they 
could  n't 'get  anywhere  else!  There  was  Goethe. 
How  he  felt !  He  took  it  all  in.  And  there  was 
Shelley  writing  poetry  in  the  Baths  of  Caracalla. 
And  there  was  Gibbon." 

"  But  we  can't  all  expect  to  be  Shelleys  or  even 
Gibbons,"  I  suggested. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Bagster,  ruefully.  "  But  if  one 
has  only  a  little  vessel,  he  ought  to  fill  it.  But 
somehow  the  historical  associations  crowd  each 
other  out.  When  I  left  home  I  bought  Hare's 
4  Walks  in  Rome.'  I  thought  I  would  take  a  walk 
a  day  as  long  as  they  lasted.  It  seemed  a  pleas 
ant  way  of  combining  physical  and  intellectual 
exercise.  But  do  you  know,  I  could  not  keep  up 
those  walks.  They  were  too  concentrated  for  my 
constitution.  I  was  n't  equal  to  them.  Out  in 
California  they  used  to  make  wagers  with  the 
stranger  that  he  could  n't  eat  a  broiled  quail  every 
day  for  ten  days.  I  don't  see  why  he  could  n't,  but 
it  seemed  that  the  thought  of  to-morrow's  quail, 
and  the  feeling  that  it  was  compulsory,  turned 
him  against  what  otherwise  might  have  been  a 
pleasure.  It 's  so  with  the  '  Walks/  It 's  appalling 
to  think  that  every  morning  you  have  to  start  out 


30        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

for  a  constitutional,  and  be  confronted  with  the 
events  of  the  last  twenty-five  centuries.  The  events 
are  piled  up  one  on  another.  There  they  are,  and 
here  you  are,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
them?" 

"  I  suppose  that  there  is  n't  much  that  you  can 
do  about  them,"  I  remarked. 

"  But  we  ought  to  do  what  we  can,"  said  Bag- 
ster.  "When  I  do  have  an  emotion,  something 
immediately  turns  up  to  contradict  it.  It 's  like 
wandering  through  a  big  hotel,  looking  for  your 
room,  when  you  are  on  the  wrong  floor.  Here 
you  are  as  likely  as  not  to  find  yourself  in  the 
wrong  century.  In  Rome  everything  turns  out, 
on  inquiry,  to  be  something  else.  There 's  some 
thing  impressive  about  a  relic  if  it 's  the  relic  of 
one  thing.  But  if  it 's  the  relic  of  a  dozen  differ 
ent  kinds  of  things  it 's  hard  to  pick  out  the  ap 
propriate  emotion.  I  find  it  hard  to  adjust  my 
mind  to  these  composite  associations." 

"  Now  just  look  at  this,"  he  said,  opening  his 
well-thumbed  Baedeker:  "'Santa  Maria  Sopra 
Minerva  (PL  D.  4),  erected  on  the  ruins  of  Do- 
mitian's  temple  of  Minerva,  the  only  medieval 
Gothic  church  in  Rome.  Begun  A.D.,  1280;  was 


OF   ROME  31 

restored  and  repainted  in  1848-55.  It  contains 
several  admirable  works  of  art,  in  particular  Mi 
chelangelo's  Christ/  " 

"  It 's  that  sort  of  thing  that  gets  on  my  nerves. 
The  Virgin  and  Minerva  and  Domitian  and  Mi 
chelangelo  are  all  mixed  together,  and  then  every 
thing  is  restored  and  repainted  in  1848.  And  just 
round  the  corner  from  Santa  Maria  Sopra  Mi 
nerva  is  the  Pantheon.  The  inscription  on  the  porch 
says  that  it  was  built  by  Agrippa,  the  son-in-law 
of  Augustus.  I  try  to  take  that  in.  But  when  I 
have  partially  done  that,  I  learn  that  the  building 
was  struck  by  lightning  and  entirely  rebuilt  by 
the  Emperor  Hadrian. 

"  That  information  comes  like  the  call  of  the 
conductor  to  change  cars,  just  as  one  has  comfort 
ably  settled  down  on  the  train.  We  must  forget 
all  about  Agrippa  and  Augustus,  and  remember 
that  this  building  was  built  by  Hadrian.  But  it 
turns  out  that  in  609  Boniface  turned  it  into  a 
Christian  church.  Which  Boniface  ?  The  Panthe 
on  was  adorned  with  bronze  columns.  If  you  wish 
to  see  them  you  must  go  to  St.  Peter's,  where  they 
are  a  part  of  the  high  altar.  So  Baedeker  says, 
but  I  'm  told  that  is  n't  correct  either.  When  you 


3  2        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

go  inside  you  see  that  you  must  let  by-gones  be 
by-gones.  You  are  confronted  with  the  tomb  of 
Victor  Emmanuel  and  set  to  thinking  on  the  re 
cent  glories  of  the  House  of  Savoy.  Really  to  ap 
preciate  the  Pantheon  you  must  be  well-posted 
in  nineteenth-century  history.  You  keep  up  this 
train  of  thought  till  you  happen  to  stumble  on 
the  tomb  of  Raphael.  That,  of  course,  is  what  you 
ought  to  have  come  to  see  in  the  first  place. 

u  When  you  look  at  the  column  of  Trajan  you 
naturally  think  of  Trajan,  you  follow  the  spiral 
which  celebrates  his  victories,  till  you  come  to 
the  top  of  the  column;  and  there  stands  St.  Peter 
as  if  it  were  bis  monument.  You  meditate  on  the 
column  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  look  up  and  see 
St.  Paul  in  the  place  of  honor. 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  have  had  difficulty 
about  the  ruins.  Brick,  particularly  in  this  climate, 
does  n't  show  its  age.  I  find  it  hard  to  distinguish 
between  a  ruin  and  a  building  in  the  course  of 
construction.  When  I  got  out  of  the  station  I  saw 
a  huge  brick  building  across  the  street,  which  had 
been  left  unfinished  as  if  the  workmen  had  gone 
on  strike.  I  learned  that  it  was  the  remains  of  the 
Baths  of  Diocletian.  Opening  a  door  I  found  my- 


OF   ROME  33 

self  in  a  huge  church,  which  had  a  long  history 
I  ought  to  have  known  something  about,  but 
did  n't. 

"  Now  read  this,  and  try  to  take  it  in :  4  Return 
ing  to  the  Cancelleria,  we  proceed  to  the  Piazza 
Campo  de'  Fiori,  where  the  vegetable  market  is 
held  in  the  morning,  and  where  criminals  were 
formerly  executed.  The  bronze  statue  of  the  phi 
losopher  Giordano  Bruno,  who  was  burned  here  as 
a  heretic  in  1600,  was  erected  in  1889.  To  the 
east  once  lay  the  Theatre  of  Pompey.  Behind  it 
lay  the  Porticus  of  Pompey  where  Caesar  was  mur 
dered,  B.C.  44.' 

"It  economizes  space  to  have  the  vegetable 
market  and  the  martyrdom  of  Giordano  Bruno 
and  the  assassination  of  Julius  Csesar  all  close  to 
gether.  But  they  are  too  close.  The  imagination 
hasn't  room  to  turn  round.  Especially  as  the  mar 
ket-women  are  very  much  alive  and  cannot  con 
ceive  that  any  one  would  come  into  the  Piazza  un 
less  he  intended  to  buy  vegetables.  Somehow  the 
great  events  you  have  read  about  don't  seem  to 
have  impressed  themselves  on  the  neighborhood. 
At  any  rate,  you  are  conscious  that  you  are  the 
only  person  in  the  Piazza  Campo  de'  Fiori  who 


34        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

is  thinking  about  Giordano  Bruno  or  Julius  Cae 
sar;  while  the  price  of  vegetables  is  as  intensely 
interesting  as  it  was  in  the  year  1600  A.D.  or  in 
44  B.C. 

"How  am  I  to  get  things  in  their  right  perspec 
tive?  When  I  left  home  I  had  a  pretty  clear  and 
connected  idea  of  history.  There  was  a  logical 
sequence.  One  period  followed  another.  But  in 
these  walks  in  Rome  the  sequence  is  destroyed. 
History  seems  more  like  geology  than  like  logic, 
and  the  strata  have  all  been  broken  up  by  innu 
merable  convulsions  of  nature.  The  Middle  Ages 
were  not  eight  or  ten  centuries  ago;  they  are 
round  the  next  block.  A  walk  from  the  Quirinal 
to  the  Vatican  takes  you  from  the  twentieth  cen 
tury  to  the  twelfth.  And  one  seems  as  much  alive 
as  the  other.  You  may  go  from  schools  where  you 
have  the  last  word  in  modern  education,  to  the 
Holy  Stairs  at  the  Lateran,  where  you  will  see 
the  pilgrims  mounting  on  their  knees  as  if  Luther 
and  his  protest  had  never  happened.  Or  you  can, 
in  five  minutes,  walk  from  the  Renaissance  period 
to  400  B.C. 

"  When  I  was  in  the  theological  seminary  I  had 
a  very  clear  idea  of  the  difference  between  Pagan 


OF  ROME  35 

Rome  and  Christian  Rome.  When  Constantine 
came,  Christianity  was  established.  It  was  a  won 
derful  change  and  made  everything  different.  But 
when  you  stroll  across  from  the  Arch  of  Titus  to 
the  Arch  of  Constantine  you  wonder  what  the 
difference  was.  The  two  things  look  so  much 
alike.  And  in  the  Vatican  that  huge  painting  of 
the  triumph  of  Constantine  over  Maxentius 
does  n't  throw  much  light  on  the  subject.  Sup 
pose  the  pagan  Maxentius  had  triumphed  over 
Constantine,  what  difference  would  it  have  made 
in  the  picture*? 

"They  say  that  seeing  is  believing,  but  here 
you  see  so  many  things  that  are  different  from 
what  you  have  always  believed.  The  Past  does  n't 
seem  to  be  in  the  past,  but  in  the  present.  There 
is  an  air  of  contemporaneousness  about  everything. 
Do  you  remember  that  story  of  Jules  Verne 
about  a  voyage  to  the  moon?  When  the  voy 
agers  got  a  certain  distance  from  the  earth  they 
could  n't  any  longer  drop  things  out  of  the  bal 
loon.  The  articles  they  threw  out  didn't  fall  down. 
There  was  n't  any  down;  everything  was  round 
about.  Everything  they  had  cast  out  followed 
them.  That's  the  way  Rome  makes  you  feel 


36        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

about  history.  That  which  happened  a  thousand 
years  ago  is  going  on  still.  You  can't  get  rid 
of  it.  The  Roman  Republic  is  a  live  issue, 
and  so  is  the  Roman  Empire,  and  so  is  the 
Papacy. 

"The  other  day  they  found  a  ruined  Arch  of 
Marcus  Aureltus  in  Tripoli,  and  began  to  restore 
it.  New  Italy  is  delighted  at  this  confirmation  of 
its  claims  to  sovereignty  in  North  Africa.  The 
newspapers  treat  Marcus  Aurelius  as  only  a  fore 
runner  of  Giolitti.  By  the  way,  I  never  heard  of 
Giolitti  till  I  came  over  here.  But  it  seems  that 
he  is  a  very  great  man.  But  when  ancient  and 
modern  history  are  mixed  up  it  's  hard  to  do  any 
clear  thinking.  And  when  you  do  get  a  clear 
thought  you  find  out  that  it  isn't  true.  You 
know  Dr.  Johnson  said  something  to  the  effect 
that  that  man  is  little  to  be  envied  whose  patriot 
ism  would  not  gain  force  upon  the  plain  of  Mar 
athon,  or  whose  feelings  would  not  grow  warmer 
among  the  ruins  of  Rome.  Marathon  is  a  simple 
proposition.  But  when  one  is  asked  to  warm  his 
enthusiasm  by  means  of  the  Roman  monuments, 
he  naturally  asks,  'Enthusiasm  over  what?'  Of 
course,  I  don't  mean  to  give  up.  I  'm  faint  though 


OF  ROME  37 

pursuing.  But  I  'm  afraid  that  Rome  is  not  a  good 
place  to  rest  in." 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,"  I  said,  "  if  you  insist  on  keep 
ing  on  thinking.  It  is  not  a  good  place  in  which 
to  rest  your  mind." 

II 

I  think  Bagster  is  not  the  first  person  who  has 
found  intellectual  difficulty  here.  Rome  exists 
for  the  confusion  of  the  sentimental  traveler. 
Other  cities  deal  tenderly  with  our  preconceived 
ideas  of  them.  There  is  one  simple  impression 
made  upon  the  mind.  Once  out  of  the  railway 
station  and  in  a  gondola,  and  we  can  dream  our 
dream  of  Venice  undisturbed.  There  is  no  doge 
at  present,  but  if  there  were  one  we  should  know 
where  to  place  him.  The  city  still  furnishes  the 
proper  setting  for  his  magnificence.  And  London 
with  all  its  vastness  has,  at  first  sight,  a  familiar 
seeming.  The  broad  and  simple  outlines  of 
English  history  make  it  easy  to  reconceive  the 
past. 

But  Rome  is  disconcerting.  The  actual  refuses 
to  make  terms  with  the  ideal.  It  is  a  vast  store 
house  of  historical  material,  but  the  imagination 


3  8        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

is  baffled  in  the  attempt  to  put  the  material  to 
gether. 

When  Scott  was  in  Rome  his  friend  "  advised 
him  to  wait  to  see  the  procession  of  Corpus 
Domini,  and  hear  the  Pope 

Saying  the  high,  high  mass 
All  on  St.  Peter's  day. 

He  smiled  and  said  that  these  things  were  more 
poetical  in  the  description  than  in  reality,  and 
that  it  was  all  the  better  for  him  not  to  have  seen 
it  before  he  wrote  about  it." 

Sir  Walter's  instinct  was  a  true  one.  Rome 
is  not  favorable  to  historical  romance.  Its  atmos 
phere  is  eminently  realistic.  The  historical  ro 
mancer  is  flying  through  time  as  the  air-men  fly 
through  space.  But  the  air-men  complain  that 
they  sometimes  come  upon  what  they  call  "  air 
holes."  The  atmosphere  seems  suddenly  to  give 
way  under  them.  In  Rome  the  element  of  Time 
on  which  the  imagination  has  been  flying  seems 
to  lose  its  usual  density.  We  drop  through  a 
Time-hole,  and  find  ourselves  in  an  inglorious 
anachronism. 

I  am  not  sure  that  Bagster  has  had  a  more 
difficult  time  than  his  predecessors,  who  have  at- 


OF   ROME  39 

tempted  to  assort  their  historical  material.  For 
in  the  days  before  historical  criticism  was  in 
vented,  the  history  of  Rome  was  very  luxuriant. 
"  Seeing  Rome  "  was  a  strenuous  undertaking,  if 
one  tried  to  be  intelligent. 

There  was  an  admirable  little  guide-book  pub 
lished  in  the  twelfth  century  called  "Mirabilia 
Urbis  Romse."  One  can  imagine  the  old-time  tour 
ist  with  this  mediaeval  Baedeker  in  hand,  issuing 
forth,  resolved  to  see  Rome  in  three  days.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  day  his  courage  would  ooze  away 
as  he  realized  the  extent  of  his  ignorance.  With 
a  hurried  look  at  the  guide-book  and  a  glance  at 
the  varied  assortment  of  ruins,  he  would  try  to 
get  his  bearings.  All  the  worthies  of  sacred  and 
profane  history  would  be  passing  by  in  swift 
procession. 

"  After  the  sons  of  Noah  built  the  tower  of  con 
fusion,  Noah  with  all  his  sons  came  to  Italy. 
And  not  far  from  the  place  where  Rome  now  is 
they  founded  a  city  in  his  name,  where  he  brought 
his  travail  and  life  to  an  end."  To  come  to  the 
city  of  Noah  was  worth  a  long  journey.  Just  think 
of  actually  standing  on  the  spot  where  Shem, 
Ham,  and  Japhet  soothed  the  declining  years  of 


40        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

their  father !  It  was  hard  to  realize  it  all.  And  it 
appears  that  Japhet,  always  an  enterprising  per 
son,  built  a  city  of  his  own  on  the  Palatine  Hill. 
There  is  the  Palatine,  somewhat  cluttered  up 
with  modern  buildings  of  the  Csesars,  but  essen 
tially,  in  its  outlines,  as  Japhet  saw  it. 

But  there  were  other  pioneers  to  be  remem 
bered.  "  Saturn,  being  shamefully  entreated  by 
his  son  Jupiter,"  founded  a  city  on  the  Capitoline 
Hill.  One  wonders  what  Shem,  Ham,  and 
Japhet  thought  of  this,  and  whether  their  sympa 
thies  were  with  Jupiter  who  was  seeking  to  get  a 
place  in  the  sun. 

It  is  hard  to  understand  the  complicated  poli 
tics  of  the  day.  At  any  rate,  a  short  time  after, 
Hercules  came  with  a  band  of  Argives  and 
established  a  rival  civic  centre.  In  the  meantime, 
Janus  had  become  mixed  up  with  Roman  history 
and  was  working  manfully  for  the  New  Italy.  On 
very  much  the  same  spot  "  Tibris,  King  of  the 
Aborigines  "built  a  city,  which  must  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  those  before  mentioned. 

D 

All  this  happened  before  Romulus  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  One  with  a  clear  and  compre 
hensive  understanding  of  this  early  history  might 


OF  ROME  41 

enjoy  his  first  morning's  walk  in  Rome.  But  to 
the  middle-aged  pilgrim  from  the  West  Riding 
of  Yorkshire,  who  had  come  to  Rome  merely  to 
see  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter,  it  was  exhausting. 

But  perhaps  mediaeval  tradition  did  not  form  a 
more  confusing  atmosphere  than  the  sentimental 
admiration  of  a  later  day.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  nineteenth  century  a  writer  begins  a  book  on 
Rome  in  this  fashion :  "  I  have  ventured  to  hope 
that  this  work  may  be  a  guide  to  those  who  visit 
this  wonderful  city,  which  boasts  at  once  the 
noblest  remains  of  antiquity,  and  the  most  fault 
less  works  of  art ;  which  possesses  more  claims  to 
interest  than  any  other  city;  which  has  in  every 
age  stood  foremost  in  the  world  ;  which  has  been 
the  light  of  the  earth  in  ages  past,  the  guiding  star 
through  the  long  night  of  ignorance,  the  fountain 
of  civilization  to  the  whole  Western  world,  and 
which  every  nation  reverences  as  the  common 
nurse,  preceptor,  and  parent." 

This  notion  of  Rome  as  the  venerable  parent 
of  civilization,  to  be  approached  with  tenderly 
reverential  feelings,  was  easier  to  hold  a  hundred 
years  ago  than  it  is  to-day.  There  was  nothing  to 
contradict  it.  One  might  muse  on  "  the  grandeur 


42        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

that  was  Rome,"  among  picturesque  ruins  covered 
with  flowering  weeds.  But  now  a  Rome  that  is 
obtrusively  modern  claims  attention.  And  it  is 
not  merely  that  the  modern  world  is  here,  but 
that  our  view  of  antiquity  is  modernized.  We 
see  it,  not  through  the  mists  of  time,  but  as  a 
contemporary  might. 

-  When  Ferrero  published  his  history  we  were 
startled  by  his  realistic  treatment.  It  was  as  if 
we  were  reading  a  newspaper  and  following  the 
course  of  current  events.  Caesar  and  Pompey 
and  Cicero  were  treated  as  if  they  were  New 
York  politicians.  Where  we  had  expected  to 
see  stately  figures  in  togas  we  were  made  to  see 
hustling  real-estate  speculators,  and  millionaires, 
and  labor  leaders,  and  ward  politicians,  who  were 
working  for  the  prosperity  of  the  city  and,  inci 
dentally,  for  themselves.  It  was  all  very  different 
from  our  notions  of  classic  times  which  we  had 
imbibed  from  our  Latin  lessons  in  school.  But  it 
is  the  impression  which  Rome  itself  makes  upon 
the  mind. 

One  afternoon,  among  the  vast  ruins  of  Ha 
drian's  Villa,  I  tried  to  picture  the  villa  as  it  was 
when  its  first  owner  walked  among  the  buildings 


OF   ROME  43 

which  his  whim  had  created.  The  moment  Ha 
drian  himself  appeared  upon  the  scene,  antiquity 
seemed  an  illusion.  How  ultra-modern  he  was, 
this  man  whom  his  contemporaries  called  "a 
searcher  out]pf  strange  things  " !  These  ruins  could 
not  by  the  mere  process  of  time  become  vener 
able,  for  they  were  in  their  very  nature  novelties. 
They  were  the  playthings  of  a  very  rich  man. 
There  they  lie  upon  the  ground  like  so  many 
broken  toys.  They  are  just  such  things  as  an  enor 
mously  rich  man  would  make  to-day  if  he  had 
originality  enough  to  think  of  them.  Why  should 
not  Hadrian  have  a  Vale  of  Tempe  and  a  Greek 
theatre  and  a  Valley  of  Canopus,  and  ever  so 
many  other  things  which  he  had  seen  in  his 
travels,  reproduced  on  his  estate  near  Tivoli*? 
An  historian  of  the  Empire  says:  "The  char 
acter  of  Hadrian  was  in  the  highest  degree  com 
plex,  and  this  presents  to  the  student  a  series  of 
apparently  unreconciled  contrasts  which  have 
proved  so  hard  for  many  modern  historians  to  re 
solve.  A  thorough  soldier  and  yet  the  inaugurator 
of  a  peace  policy,  a  'Greekling'  as  his  Roman 
subjects  called  him,  and  saturated  with  Hellenic 
ideas,  and  yet  a  lover  of  Roman  antiquity ;  a  poet 


44        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

and  an  artist,  but  with  a  passion  for  business  and 
finance;  a  voluptuary  determined  to  drain  the 
cup  of  human  experience  and,  at  the  same  time, 
a  ruler  who  labored  strenuously  for  the  well-being 
of  his  subjects;  such  were  a  few  of  the  diverse 
parts  which  Hadrian  played." 

It  is  evident  that  the  difficulty  with  the  histo 
rians  who  find  these  unreconciled  contrasts  is  that 
they  try  to  treat  Hadrian  as  an  "ancient"  rather 
than  as  a  modern.  The  enormously  rich  men  who 
are  at  present  most  in  the  public  eye  present  the 
same  contradictions.  Hadrian  was  a  thorough 
man  of  the  world.  There  was  nothing  venerable 
about  him,  though  much  that  was  interesting  and 
admirable. 

Now  what  a  man  of  the  world  is  to  a  simple 
character  like  a  saint  or  a  hero,  that  Rome  has 
been  to  cities  of  the  simpler  sort.  It  has  been  a  city 
of  the  world.  It  has  been  cosmopolitan.  "Urbset 
orbis  "  suggests  the  historic  fact.  The  fortunes  of 
the  city  have  become  inextricably  involved  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  world. 

A  part  of  the  confusion  of  the  traveler  comes 
from  the  fact  that  the  Roman  city  and  the  Ro 
man  world  are  not  clearly  distinguished  one  from 


OF   ROME  45 

the  other.  The  New  Testament  writer  distin 
guishes  between  Jerusalem  as  a  geographical 
fact  and  Jerusalem  as  a  spiritual  ideal.  There  has 
been,  he  says,  a  Jerusalem  that  belongs  to  the 
Jews,  but  there  is  also  Jerusalem  which  belongs 
to  humanity,  which  is  free,  which  is  "  the  mother 
of  us  all." 

So  there  has  been  a  local  Rome  with  its  local 
history.  And  there  has  been  the  greater  Rome 
that  has  impressed  itself  on  the  imagination  of  the 
world.  Since  the  destruction  of  Carthage  the  mean 
ing  of  the  word  "  Roman "  has  been  largely  alle 
gorical.  It  has  stood  for  the  successive  ideas  of 
earthly  power  and  spiritual  authority. 

Rome  absorbed  the  glory  of  deeds  done  else 
where.  Battles  were  fought  in  far-off  Asia  and 
Africa.  But  the  battlefield  did  not  become  the 
historic  spot.  The  victor  must  bring  his  captives 
to  Rome  for  his  triumph.  Here  the  pomp  of  war 
could  be  seen,  on  a  carefully  arranged  stage,  and 
before  admiring  thousands.  It  was  the  triumph 
rather  than  the  battle  that  was  remembered.  All 
the  interest  culminated  at  this  dramatic  moment. 
Rome  thus  became,  not  the  place  where  his 
tory  was  made,  but  the  place  where  it  was  cele- 


46        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

brated.  Here  the  trumpets  of  fame  perpetually 
sounded. 

This  process  continued  after  the  Empire  of  the 
Caesars  passed  away.  The  continuity  of  Roman 
history  has  been  psychological.  Humanity  has 
"held  a  thought."  Rome  became  a  fixed  idea.  It 
exerted  an  hypnotic  influence  over  the  barbarians 
who  had  overcome  all  else.  The  Holy  Roman 
Empire  was  a  creation  of  the  Germanic  imagina 
tion,  and  yet  it  was  a  real  power.  Many  a  hard- 
headed  Teutonic  monarch  crossed  the  Alps  at  the 
head  of  his  army  to  demand  a  higher  sanction  for 
his  own  rule  of  force.  When  he  got  himself 
crowned  in  the  turbulent  city  on  the  Tiber  he 
felt  that  something  very  important  had  happened. 
Just  how  important  it  was  he  did  not  fully  real 
ize  till  he  was  back  among  his  own  people  and 
saw  how  much  impressed  they  were  by  his  new 
dignities. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  begins  one  of  his  sto 
ries  with  the  assertion,  "  You  must  know  that  the 
Emperor  of  China  is  a  Chinaman  and  that  all 
whom  he  has  about  him  are  Chinamen  also."  The 
assertion  is  so  logical  in  form  that  we  are  inclined 
to  accept  it  without  question.  Then  we  remem- 


OF  ROME  47 

her  that  in  Hans  Christian  Andersen's  day,  and 
for  a  long  time  before,  the  Emperor  of  China  was 
not  a  Chinaman  and  the  great  grievance  was  that 
Chinamen  were  the  very  people  he  would  not 
have  about  him. 

When  we  speak  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
we  jump  at  the  conclusion  that  it  is  the  church 
of  the  Romans  and  that  the  people  of  Rome  have 
had  the  most  to  do  with  its  extension.  This  theory 
has  nothing  to  recommend  it  but  its  extreme  ver 
bal  simplicity.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Rome  has 
never  been  noted  for  its  pious  zeal.  Such  warmth 
as  it  has  had  has  been  imparted  to  it  by  the  faith 
ful  who  have  been  drawn  from  other  lands;  as, 
according  to  some  theorists,  the  sun's  heat  is  kept 
up  by  a  continuous  shower  of  meteors  falling 
into  it. 

To-day,  the  Roman  Church  is  more  conscious 
of  its  strength  in  Massachusetts  than  it  is  near 
the  Vatican.  At  the  period  when  the  Papacy  was 
at  its  height,  and  kings  and  emperors  trembled 
before  it  in  England  and  in  Germany,  the  Popes 
had  a  precarious  hold  on  their  own  city.  Rome 
was  a  religious  capital  rather  than  a  religious 
centre.  It  did  not  originate  new  movements.  Mis- 


48        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

sionaries  of  the  faith  have  not  gone  forth  from  it, 
as  they  went  from  Ireland.  It  is  not  in  Rome  that 
we  find  the  places  where  the  saints  received  their 
spiritual  illuminations,  and  fought  the  good  fight, 
and  gathered  their  disciples.  Rome  was  the  place 
to  which  they  came  for  judgment,  as  Paul  did  when 
he  appealed  to  Csesar.  Here  heretics  were  con 
demned,  and  here  saints,  long  dead,  were  canon 
ized.  Neither  the  doctrines  nor  the  institutions  of 
the  Catholic  Church  originated  here.  Rome  was 
the  mint,  not  the  mine.  That  which  received  the 
Roman  stamp  passed  current  throughout  the 
world. 

In  the  political  struggle  for  the  New  Italy,  Rome 
had  the  same  symbolic  character.  Mazzini  was 
never  so  eloquent  as  when  portraying  the  glories 
of  the  free  Rome  that  was  to  be  recognized,  in 
deed,  as  the  mother  of  us  all.  The  Eternal  City, 
he  believed,  was  to  be  the  regenerating  influence, 
not  only  for  Europe  but  for  all  the  world.  All  the 
romantic  enthusiasm  of  Garibaldi  flamed  forth  at 
the  sight  of  Rome.  All  other  triumphs  signified 
nothing  till  Rome  was  the  acknowledged  capital 
of  Italy.  Silently  and  steadily  Cavour  worked  to 
ward  the  same  end.  And  at  last  Rome  gathered 


OF  ROME  49 

to  herself  the  glory  of  the  heroes  who  were  not 
her  own  children. 

If  we  recognize  the  symbolic  and  represent 
ative  character  of  Roman  history,  we  can  begin  to 
understand  the  reason  for  the  bewilderment  which 
comes  to  the  traveler  who  attempts  to  realize  it 
in  imagination.  Roman  history  is  not,  like  the 
tariff,  a  local  issue.  The  most  important  events 
in  that  history  did  not  occur  here  at  all,  though 
they  were  here  commemorated.  So  it  happens 
that  every  nation  finds  here  its  own,  and  rein 
forces  its  traditions.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
Jewish  traveler,  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  found  much 
to  interest  him.  In  Rome  were  to  be  found  two 
brazen  pillars  of  Solomon's  Temple,  and  there 
was  a  crypt  where  Titus  hid  the  holy  vessels 
taken  from  Jerusalem.  There  was  also  a  statue 
of  Samson  and  another  of  Absalom. 

The  worthy  Benjamin  doubtless  felt  the  same 
thrill  that  I  did  when  looking  up  at  the  ceiling 
of  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore.  I  was 
told  that  it  was  gilded  with  the  first  gold  brought 
from  America.  The  statement,  that  the  church 
was  founded  on  this  spot  because  of  a  vision  that 
came  to  Pope  Liberius  in  the  year  305  A.D.,  left 


50        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

me  unmoved.  It  was  of  course  a  long  time  ago ; 
but  then,  I  had  no  mental  associations  with  Pope 
Liberius,  and  there  was  no  encyclopaedia  at  hand 
in  which  I  might  look  him  up.  Besides,  "the 
church  was  reerected  by  Sixtus  III  in  the  year 
432,  and  was  much  altered  in  the  twelfth  century." 
But  the  gold  on  the  ceiling  was  a  different  mat 
ter.  That  was  romantically  historical.  It  came 
from  America  in  the  heroic  age.  I  thought  of  the 
Spanish  galleons  that  brought  it  over,  and  of 
Columbus  and  Cortes  and  Alvarado.  After  that, 
to  go  into  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore 
was  like  taking  a  trip  to  Mexico. 

In  the  course  of  my  daily  walks,  I  passed  the 
Church  of  Santa  Pudenziana,  said  to  be  the 
oldest  in  Rome,  and  recently  modernized.  It  is 
on  the  spot  where  Pudens,  the  host  of  St.  Peter, 
is  said  to  have  lived  with  his  daughters  Praxedis 
and  Pudentiana.  This  is  interesting,  but  the 
English-speaking  traveler  is  likely  to  pass  by 
Pudentiana's  church,  and  seek  out  the  church  of 
her  sister  St.  Praxed.  And  this  not  for  the  sake 
of  St.  Praxed  or  her  father  Pudens  or  even  of  his 
guest  St.  Peter,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  certain  Eng 
lish  poet  who  had  visited  the  church  once. 


OF   ROME  51 

Close  to  the  Porta  San  Paolo  is  the  great 
tomb  of  the  Roman  magnate,  Gaius  Cestius, 
which  was  built  before  the  birth  of  Christ.  One 
can  hardly  miss  seeing  it,  because  it  is  near  one 
of  the  most  sacred  pilgrimage  places  of  Rome, 
the  grave  of  John  Keats. 

Each  traveler  makes  his  own  Rome ;  and  the 
memories  which  he  takes  away  are  the  memories 
which  he  brought  with  him. 

in 

As  for  my  friend  Bagster,  now  that  he  has 
come  to  Rome,  I  hope  he  may  stay  long  enough 
to  allow  it  to  produce  a  more  tranquilizing  effect 
upon  him.  When  he  gives  up  the  attempt  to 
take  it  all  in  by  an  intellectual  and  moral  effort, 
he  may,  as  the  saying  is,  "  relax." 

There  is  no  other  place  in  which  one  may  so 
readily  learn  the  meaning  of  that  misused  word 
"urbanity."  Urbanity  is  the  state  of  mind  adapted 
to  a  city,  as  rusticity  is  adapted  to  the  country. 
In  each  case  the  perfection  of  the  adaptation  is 
evidenced  by  a  certain  ease  of  manner  in  the 
presence  of  the  environment.  There  is  an  absence 
of  fret  and  worry  over  what  is  involved  in  the 


52        CONTEMPORANEOUSNESS 

situation.  A  countryman  does  not  fret  over  dust 
or  mud ;  he  knows  that  they  are  forms  of  the 
good  earth  out  of  which  he  makes  his  living. 
He  may  grumble  at  the  weather,  but  he  is  not 
surprised  at  it,  and  he  is  ready  to  make  the  best 
of  it. 

This  adaptation  to  nature  is  easy  for  us,  for  we 
are  rustics  by  inheritance.  Our  ancestors  lived  in 
the  open,  and  kept  their  flocks  and  were  mighty 
hunters  long  before  towns  were  .ever  thought  of. 
So  when  we  go  into  the  woods  in  the  spring,  our 
self-consciousness  leaves  us  and  we  speedily  make 
ourselves  at  home.  We  take  things  for  granted, 
and  are  not  careful  about  trifles.  A  great  many 
things  are  going  on,  but  the  multiplicity  does  not 
distract  us.  We  do  not  need  to  understand. 

For  we  have  primal  sympathies  which  are 
very  good  substitutes  for  intelligence.  We  do 
not  worry  because  nature  does  not  get  on  faster 
with  her  work.  When  we  go  out  on  the  hills  on 
a  spring  morning,  as  our  forbears  did  ten  thou 
sand  years  ago,  it  does  not  fret  us  to  consider 
that  things  are  going  on  very  much  as  they  did 
then.  The  sap  is  mounting  in  the  trees;  the  wild 
flowers  are  pushing  out  of  the  sod ;  the  free  citi- 


OF   ROME  53 

zens  of  the  woods  are  pursuing  their  vocations 
without  regard  to  our  moralities.  A  great  deal  is 
going  on,  but  nothing  has  come  to  a  dramatic 
culmination. 

Our  innate  rusticity  makes  us  accept  all  this 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered  to  us.  It  is  na 
ture's  way  and  we  like  it,  because  we  are  used  to 
it.  We  take  what  is  set  before  us  and  ask  no 
questions.  It  is  spring.  We  do  not  stop  to  in 
quire  as  to  whether  this  spring  is  an  improve 
ment  on  last  spring  or  on  the  spring  of  the  year 
400  B.C.  There  is  a  timelessness  about  our  enjoy 
ment.  We  are  not  thinking  of  events  set  in  a 
chronological  order,  but  of  a  process  which  loses 
nothing  by  reason  of  repetition. 

Our  attitude  toward  a  city  is  usually  quite 
different.  We  are  not  at  our  ease.  We  are 
querulous  and  anxious,  and  our  interest  takes  a 
feverish  turn.  For  the  cities  of  our  Western 
world  are  new-fangled  contrivances  which  we  are 
not  used  to,  and  we  are  worried  as  we  try  to  find 
out  whether  they  will  work.  These  aggregations 
of  humanity  have  not  existed  long  enough  to 
seem  to  belong  to  the  nature  of  things.  It  is  ex 
citing  to  be  invited  to  "see  Seattle  grow,"  but 


54  ROME 

the  exhibition  does  not  yield  a  "  harvest  of  a 
quiet  eye."  If  Seattle  should  cease  to  grow  while 
we  are  looking  at  it,  what  should  we  do  then  *? 

But  with  Rome  it  is  different.  Here  is  a  city 
which  has  been  so  long  in  existence  that  we  look 
upon  it  as  a  part  of  nature.  It  is  not  accidental 
or  artificial.  Nothing  can  happen  to  it  but  what 
has  happened  already.  It  has  been  burned  with 
fire,  it  has  been  ravaged  by  the  sword,  it  has  been 
ruined  by  luxury,  it  has  been  pillaged  by  bar 
barians  and  left  for  dead.  And  here  it  is  to-day 
the  scene  of  eager  life.  Pagans,  Christians,  re 
formers,  priests,  artists,  soldiers,  honest  workmen, 
idlers,  philosophers,  saints,  were  here  centuries 
ago.  They  are  here  to-day.  They  have  continu 
ously  opposed  each  other,  and  yet  no  species  has 
been  exterminated.  Their  combined  activities 
make  the  city. 

When  one  comes  to  feel  the  stirring  of  primal 
sympathies  for  the  manifold  life  of  the  city,  as  he 
does  for  the  manifold  life  of  the  woods,  Rome 
ceases  to  be  distracting.  The  old  city  is  like  the 
mountain  which  has  withstood  the  hurts  of  time, 
and  remains  for  us,  "  the  grand  affirmer  of  the 
present  tense." 


THE  AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT 


i 

TOPPING  at  some  selected  spot  on  the 
mountain  road,  the  stage-driver  will  direct 
the  stranger's  attention  to  a  projecting  mass  of 
rock  which  bears  some  resemblance  to  a  human 
countenance.  There  is  the  "Old  Man  of  the 
Mountains,"  or  the  "  Old  Woman,"  as  the  case 
may  be. 

If  the  stranger  be  of  a  docile  disposition  he 
will  see  what  he  is  told  to  see.  But  he  will  be 
content  with  the  vague  suggestion  and  will  not 
push  the  analogy  too  far.  The  similitude  is 
strictly  confined  to  the  locality.  It  is  enough  if 
from  a  single  point  the  mountain  seems  almost 
human.  From  any  other  point  it  will  seem  to 
be  merely  mountainous. 

A  similar  caution  is  necessary  in  regard  to  the 
resemblances  between  a  nation  and  an  individual. 
When  we  talk  of  a  national  character  or  tempera 
ment,  we  are  using  an  interesting  and  bold  figure 


56   THE  AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT 

of  speech.  We  speak  of  millions  of  people  as  if 
they  were  one.  Of  course,  a  nation  is  not  one 
kind  of  person;  it  is  composed  of  many  kinds  of 
persons.  These  persons  are  diverse  in  character. 
All  Scotchmen  are  not  canny,  nor  ail  Irishmen 
happy-go-lucky.  Those  who  know  a  great  many 
Chinamen  are  acquainted  with  those  who  are 
idealists  with  little  taste  for  plodding  industry. 
i/It  is  only  the  outsider  who  is  greatly  impressed 
by  the  family  resemblance.  To  the  more  analytic 
mind  of  the  parent  each  child  is,  in  a  most  re 
markable  degree,  different  from  the  others. 

When  we  take  such  typical  characters  as  John 
Bull  and  Brother  Jonathan  as  representing  actual 
Englishmen  or  Americans,  we  put  ourselves  in 
the  way  of  contradiction.  They  are  not  good 
likenesses.  An  English  writer  says:  "As  the 
English,  a  particularly  quick-witted  race,  tinged 
with  the  colors  of  romance,  have  long  cherished 
a  false  pride  in  their  reputed  stolidity,  and  have 
accepted  with  pleasant  equanimity  the  figure  of 
John  Bull  as  their  national  signboard,  though  he 
does  not  resemble  them,  so  Americans  plume 
themselves  on  the  thought  that  they  are  dying 
of  nervous  energy." 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT   57 

There  is  much  truth  in  this.  One  may  stand 
at  Charing  Cross  and  watch  the  hurrying  crowds 
and  only  now  and  then  catch  sight  of  any  one 
who  suggests  the  burly  John  Bull  of  tradition. 
The  type  is  not  a  common  one,  at  least  among 
city  dwellers. 

But  when  we  attribute  a  temperament  to  a 
nation,  we  do  not  necessarily  mean  that  all  the 
people  are  alike.  We  only  mean  that  there  are 
certain  ways  of  thinking  and  feeling  that  are 
common  to  those  who  have  had  the  same  general 
experience.  The  national  temperament  is  mani 
fested  not  so  much  in  what  the  people  are  as  in 
what  they  admire  and  instinctively  appreciate. 

Let  us  accept  the  statement  that  the  English 
are  a  quick-witted  and  romantic  people  who 
have  accepted  with  pleasant  equanimity  the  re 
putation  for  being  quite  otherwise.  Why  should 
they  do  this?  Why  should  they  take  pride  in 
their  reputed  stolidity  rather  than  in  their  actual 
cleverness.  Here  is  a  temperamental  peculiarity 
that  is  worth  looking  into. 

John  Bull  may  be  a  myth,  but  Englishmen 
have  been  the  mythmakers.  They  have  for  gen 
erations  delighted  in  picturing  him.  He  repre- 


58    THE   AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT 

sents  a  combination  of  qualities  which  they 
admire.  Dogged,  unimaginative,  well-meaning, 
honest,  full  of  whimsical  prejudices,  and  full  of 
common  sense,  he  is  loved  and  honored  by  those 
who  are  much  more  brilliant  than  he. 

John  Bull  is  not  a  composite  photograph  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  British  Isles.  He  is  not  an 
average  man.  He  is  a  totem.  When  an  Indian 
tribe  chooses  a  fox  or  a  bear  as  a  totem,  they  must 
not  be  taken  too  literally.  But  the  symbol  has  a 
real  meaning.  It  indicates  that  there  are  some 
qualities  in  these  animals  that  they  admire.  They 
have  proved  valuable  in  the  tribal  struggle  for 
existence. 

Those  who  belong  to  the  cult  of  John  Bull 
take  him  as  the  symbol  of  that  which  has  been 
most  vital  and  successful  in  the  island  story. 
England  has  had  more  than  its  share  of  men  of 
genius.  It  has  had  its  artists,  its  wits,  its  men  of 
quick  imagination.  But  these  have  not  been 
the  builders  of  the  Empire,  or  those  who  have 
sustained  it  in  the  hours  of  greatest  need.  Men 
of  a  slower  temper,  more  solid  than  brilliant,  have 
been  the  nation's  main  dependence.  "  It 's  dogged 
as  does  it."  On  many  a  hard-fought  field  men  of 


THE  AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT   59 

the  bull-dog  breed  have  with  unflinching  tenacity 
held  their  own.  In  times  of  revolution  they  have 
maintained  order,  and  never  yielded  to  a  threat. 
Had  they  been  more  sensitive  they  would  have 
failed.  Their  foibles  have  been  easily  forgiven 
and  their  virtues  have  been  gratefully  recog 
nized. 

When  we  try  to  form  an  idea  of  that  which  is 
most  distinctive  in  the  American  temperament, 
we  need  not  inquire  what  Americans  actually  are. 
The  answer  to  that  question  would  be  a  gen 
eralization  as  wide  as  humanity.  They  are  of  all 
kinds.  Among  the  ninety-odd  millions  of  human 
beings  inhabiting  the  territory  of  the  United  States 
are  representatives  of  all  the  nations  of  the  Old 
World,  and  they  bring  with  them  their  ancestral 
traits. 

But  we  may  ask,  When  these  diverse  peoples 
come  together  on  common  ground,  what  sort  of 
man  do  they  choose  as  their  symbol  *?  There  is 
a  typical  character  understood  and  appreciated 
by  all.  In  every  caricature  of  Uncle  Sam  or 
Brother  Jonathan  we  can  detect  the  lineaments 
of  the  American  frontiersman. 

ames  Russell  Lowell,  gentleman  and  scholar 


60    THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

that  he  was,  describes  a  type  of  man  unknown  to 
the  Old  World:  — 


"This  brown-fisted  rough,  this  shirt-sleeveckCid," 
This  backwoods  Charlemagne  of  Empires  new: "' 
Who  meeting  Caesar's  self  would  slap  his  back, 
Call  him  '  Old  Horse  '  and  challenge  to  a  drink." 

Mr.  Lowell  bore  no  resemblance  to  this 
brown-fisted  rough.  He  would  not  have  slapped 
Caesar  on  the  back,  and  he  would  have  resented 
being  himself  greeted  in  such  an  unconventional 
fashion.  Nevertheless  he  was  an  American  and 
was  able  to  understand  that  a  man  might  be 
capable  of  such  improprieties  and  at  the  same 
time  be  a  pillar  of  the  State.  It  tickled  his  fancy 
to  think  of  a  fellow  citizen  meeting  the  imperial 
Roman  on  terms  of  hearty  equality. 

My  lungs  draw  braver  air,  my  breast  dilates 
With  ampler  manhood,  and  I  face  both  worlds." 

Dickens,  with  all  his  boisterous  humor  and 
democratic  sympathies,  could  not  interpret  Jef 
ferson  Brick  and  Lafayette  Kettle  and  the  other 
expansive  patriots  whom  he  met  on  his  travels. 
Their  virtues  were  as  a  sealed  book  to  him.  Their 
boastful  familiarity  was  simply  odious. 

To  understand  Lowell's  exhilaration  one  must 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT    61 

enter  into  the  spirit  of  American  history.  It  has 
been  the  history  of  what  has  been  done  by  strong 
men  who  owed  nothing  to  the  refinements  of  civ 
ilization.  The  interesting  events  have  taken  place 
not  at  the  centre,  but  on  the  circumference  of  the 
country.  The  centrifugal  force  has  always  been 
the  strongest.  There  has  been  no  capital  to  which 
ambitious  youths  went  up  to  seek  their  fortune. 
In  each  generation  they  have  gone  to  the  frontier 
where  opportunities  awaited  them.  There  they  en 
countered,  on  the  rough  edges  of  society,  rough- 
and-ready  men  in  whom  they  recognized  their 
natural  superiors.  These  men,  rude  of  speech  and 
of  manner,  were  resourceful,  bold,  far-seeing.  They 
were  conscious  of  their  power.  They  were  laying 
the  foundations  of  cities  and  of  states  and  they 
knew  it.  They  were  as  boastful  as  Homeric 
heroes,  and  for  the  same  reason.  There  was  in 
them  a  rude  virility  that  found  expression  in  word 
as  well  as  in  deed. 

Davy  Crockett,  coon-hunter,  Indian  fighter, 
and  Congressman,  was  a  great  man  in  his  day.  It 
does  not  detract  from  his  worth  that  he  was  well 
aware  of  the  fact.  There  was  no  false  modesty 
about  this  backwoods  Charlemagne.  He  wrote  of 


62     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

himself,  "  If  General  Jackson,  Black  Hawk,  and 
me  were  to  travel  through  the  United  States  we 
would  bring  out,  no  matter  what  kind  of  weather, 
more  people  to  see  us  than  any  other  three  people 
now  living  among  the  fifteen  millions  now  inhab 
iting  the  United  States.  And  what  would  it  be  for? 
As  I  am  one  of  the  persons  mentioned  I  would 
not  press  the  question  further.  What  I  am  driving 
at  is  this.  When  a  man  rises  from  a  low  degree  to 
a  place  he  ain't  used  to,  such  a  man  starts  the 
curiosity  of  the  world  to  know  how  he  got  along." 

Davy  Crockett  understood  the  temper  of  his 
fellow  citizens.  A  man  who  rises  by  his  own  ex 
ertions  from  a  low  position  to  "a  place  he  ain't 
used  to  "  is  not  only  an  object  of  curiosity,  but 
he  elicits  enthusiastic  admiration.  Any  awkward 
ness  which  he  exhibits  in  the  position  which  he 
has  achieved  is  overlooked.  We  are  anxious  to 
know  how  he  got  along. 

Every  country  has  its  self-made  men,  but  usu 
ally  they  are  made  to  feel  very  uncomfortable. 
They  are  accounted  intruders  in  circles  reserved 
for  the  choicer  few.  But  in  America  they  are  as 
sured  of  a  sympathetic  audience  when  they  tell  of 
the  way  they  have  risen  in  the  world.  There  is  no 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     63 

need  for  them  to  apologize  for  any  lack  of  early 
advantages,  for  they  are  living  in  a  self-made 
country.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  giving  the  place 
of  honor  to  the  beginner  rather  than  to  the  contin- 
uer.  For  the  finisher  the  time  is  not  ripe. 

II 

The  most  vivid  impressions  of  Americans  have 
always  been  anticipatory.  They  have  felt  them 
selves  borne  along  by  a  resistless  current,  and  that 
current  has,  on  the  whole,  been  flowing  in  the  right 
direction.  They  have  never  been  confronted  with 
ruins  that  tell  that  the  land  they  inhabit  has  seen 
better  days.  Yesterday  is  vague ;  To-day  may  be 
uncertain;  To-morrow  is  alluring;  and  the  Day 
after  to-morrow  is  altogether  glorious.  George 
Herbert  pictured  religion  as  standing  on  tiptoe 
waiting  to  pass  to  the  American  strand.  Not  only 
religion  but  every  other  good  thing  has  assumed 
y  that  attitude  of  expectant  curiosity^ 

Even  Cotton  Mather  could  not  avoid  a  tone  of 
pious  boastfulness  when  he  narrated  the  doings 
of  New  England.  Everything  was  remarkable. 
New  England  had  the  most  remarkable  provi 
dences,  the  most  remarkable  painful  preachers, 


64    THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

the  most  remarkable  heresies,  the  most  remark 
able  witches.  Even  the  local  devils  were  in  his 
judgment  more  enterprising  than  those  of  the  old 
country.  They  had  to  be  in  order  to  be  a  match 
for  the  New  England  saints. 

The  staid  Judge  Sewall,  after  a  study  of  the 
prophecies,  was  of  the  opinion  that  America  was 
the  only  country  in  which  they  could  be  ade 
quately  fulfilled.  Here  was  a  field  large  enough 
for  those  future  battles  between  good  and  evil 
which  enthralled  the  Puritan  imagination.  To  be 
sure,  it  would  be  said,  there  is  n't  much  just  now 
to  attract  the  historian  whose  mind  dwells  exclu 
sively  on  the  past.  But  to  one  who  dips  into  the 
future  it  is  thrilling.  Here  is  the  battlefield  of 
Armageddon.  Some  day  we  shall  see  "  the  spirits 
of  devils  working  miracles,  which  go  forth  unto 
the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  whole  world,  to 
gather  them  to  the  battle  of  that  great  day  of 
God  Almighty."  Just  when  that  might  take  place 
might  be  uncertain  but  where  it  would  take  place 
was  to  them  more  obvious. 

In  the  days  of  small  things  the  settlers  in  the 
wilderness  had  large  thoughts.  They  felt  them 
selves  to  be  historical  characters,  as  indeed  they 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT    65 

were.  They  were  impressed  by  the  magnitude  of 
the  country  and  by  the  importance  of  their  rela 
tion  to  it.  Their  language  took  on  a  cosmic 
breadth. 

Ethan  Allen  could  not  have  assumed  a  more 
masterful  tone  if  he  had  had  an  Empire  at  his  back 
instead  of  undisciplined  bands  of  Green  Mountain 
Boys.  Writing  to  the  Continental  Congress,  he 
declares  that  unless  the  demands  of  Vermont  are 
complied  with  "  we  will  retire  into  the  fastness^ 
of  our  Green  Mountains  and  will  wage  eternal 
warfare  against  Hell,  the  Devil,  and  Human  Na 
ture  in  general."  And  Ethan  Allen  meant  it. 

The  love  of  the  superlative  is  deeply  seated  in 
the  American  mind.  It  is  based  on  no  very  care 
ful  survey  of  the  existing  world.  It  is  a  conclu 
sion  to  which  it  is  easy  to  jump.  I  remember  one 
week,  traveling  through  the  Mississippi  Valley, 
stopping  every  night  in  some  town  that  had  some 
thing  which  was  advertised  as  the  biggest  in  the 
world.  On  Friday  I  reached  a  sleepy  little  village 
which  seemed  the  picture  of  contented  medio 
crity.  Here,  thought  I,  I  shall  find  no  bigness  to 
molest  me  or  make  me  afraid.  But  when  I  sat 
down  to  write  a  letter  on  the  hotel  stationery  I 


66     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

was  confronted  with  the  statement,  "  This  is  the 
biggest  little  hotel  in  the  State." 

When  one  starts  a  tune  it  is  safer  to  start  it 
rather  low,  so  as  not  to  come  to  grief  on  the  upper 
notes.  In  discussing  the  American  temperament 
it  is  better  to  start  modestly.  Instead  of  asking 
what  excellent  qualities  we  find  in  ourselves,  we 
should  ask  what  do  other  nations  most  dislike  in 
[us.  We  can  then  have  room  to  rise  to  better 
things.  There  is  a  family  resemblance  between 
the  worst  and  the  best  of  any  national  group. 
Kiplinjg,  in  his  lines  "  To  an  American,"  may  set 
the  tune  for  us.  It  is  not  too  high.  His  Ameri 
can  is  boastful,  careless,  and  irrationally  optimis 
tic. 


"  Enslaved,  illogical,  elate, 

He  greets  the  embarrassed  gods,  nor  fears 
To  shake  the  iron  hand  of  Fate 
Or  match  with  Destiny  for  beers." 

A  person  who  would  offer  to  shake  hands  with 
Fate  is  certainly  lacking  in  a  fine  sense  of  pro 
priety.  His  belief  in  equality  makes  him  indiffer 
ent  to  the  note  of  distinction.  "He  dubs  his 
dreary  brethren  kings."  Of  course  they  are  not 
kings,  but  that  makes  no  difference.  It  makes 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     67 

little  difference  whether  anything  corresponds  to 
the  name  he  chooses  to  give  to  it.  For  there  is 

"A  cynic  devil  in  his  blood 
That  bids  him  mock  his  hurrying  soul." 

This  impression  of  a  mingling  of  optimism, 
and  hurry  is  one  which  is  often  made 


upon  those  who  are  suddenly  plunged  into  Amer 
ican  society.  In  any  company  of  Americans  who 
are  discussing  public  affairs  the  stranger  is  struck 
by  what  seems  the  lack  of  logical  connection  be 
tween  the  statements  of  facts  and  the  judgments 
passed  upon  them.  The  facts  may  be  most  dis 
tressing  and  yet  nobody  seems  much  distressed, 
still  less  is  any  one  depressed.  The  city  govern 
ment  is  in  the  hands  of  grafters,  the  police  force 
is  corrupt,  the  prices  of  the  necessaries  of  life  are 
extortionate,  the  laws  on  the  statute  book  are  not 
enforced,  and  new  laws  are  about  to  be  enacted 
that  are  foolish  in  the  extreme.  Vast  numbers  of 
undesirable  aliens  are  coming  into  the  country 
and  bringing  with  them  ideas  that  are  opposed  to 
the  fundamental  principles  of  the  republic.  All 
this  is  told  with  an  air  of  illogical  elation.  The 
conversation  is  interspersed  with  anecdotes  of  the 
exploits  of  good-natured  rascals.  These  are  re- 


68     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

ceived  with  smiles  or  tolerant  laughter.  Everyone 
seems  to  have  perfect  confidence  that  the  country 
is  a  grand  and  glorious  place  to  live  in,  and  that 
11  will  come  out  well  in  the  end. 

Is  this  an  evidence  of  a  cynic  humor  in  the 
blood,  or  is  it  a  manifestation  of  childish  opti 
mism  ?  Let  us  frankly  answer  that  it  may  be  one 
or  the  other  or  both.  There  are  cynics  and  senti 
mentalists  who  are  the  despair  of  all  who  are  se 
riously  working  for  better  citizenship.  But  the 
chances  are  that  the  men  to  whom  our  stranger 
was  listening  were  neither  cynics  nor  sentiment 
alists,  but  idealists  who  had  the  American  tem 
perament. 

Among  those  who  laughed  good-naturedly 
over  the  temporary  success  of  the  clever  rascal 
may  have  been  those  who  had  been  giving  their 
energies  to  the  work  of  prevention  of  just  such  mis 
deeds.  They  are  reformers  with  a  shrewd  twinkle 
in  their  eyes.  They  take  a  keen  intellectual  pleas 
ure  in  their  work,  and  are  ready  to  give  credit  to 
any  natural  talent  in  their  antagonist.  If  they  are 
inclined  to  take  a  cheerful  view  of  the  whole  sit 
uation  it  is  because  they  are  in  the  habit  of  look 
ing  at  the  situation  as  a  whole.  The  predomi- 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     69 

nance  of  force  is  actually  on  their  side  and  they 
see  no  reason  to  doubt  the  final  result.  They  have 
learned  the  meaning  of  the  text,  "Fret  not  thyself 
because  of  evildoers."  In  fact  the  evildoer  may 
not  have  done  so  much  harm  as  one  might  think. 
Nor  is  he  really  such  a  hopeless  character.  There 
is  good  stuff  in  him,  and  he  yet  may  be  used  for 
many  good  purposes.  They  laugh  best  who  laugh 
last,  and  their  good-natured  laughter  was  anticipa 
tory.  There  are  forces  working  for  righteousness 
which  they  have  experienced.  On  the  whole 
things  are  moving  in  the  right  direction  and  they 
can  afford  to  be  cheerful. 

This  is  the  kind  of  experience  which  comes  to 
those  who  are  habitually  dealing  with  crude  ma 
terials  rather  than  with  finished  products.  They 
cannot  afford  to  be  fastidious ;  they  learn  to  take 
things  as  they  come  and  make  the  best  of  them. 
The  doctrine  that  things  are  not  as  they  seem 
is  a  cheerful  one,  to  a  person  who  is  accustomed 
to  dealing  with  things  which  turn  out  to  be 
better  than  at  first  they  seemed.  The  unknown 
takes  on  a  friendly  guise  and  awakens  a  pleasant 
curiosity.  That  is  the  experience  of  generations 
of  pioneers  and  prospectors.  They  have  found  a 


yo     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

continent  full  of  resources  awaiting  men  of 
courage  and  industry.  The  opportunities  were 
there;  all  that  was  needed  was  the  ability  to  re 
cognize  them  when  they  appeared  in  disguise. 

in 

And  the  human  problem  has  been  the  same 
as  the  material  one.  Europe  has  sent  to  America 
not  the  finished  products  of  her  schools  and  her 
courts,  but  millions  of  people  for  whom  she  had 
no  room.  They  were  in  the  rough ;  they  had  to 
be  made  over  into  a  new  kind  of  citizen.  This 
material  has  often  been  of  the  most  unpromising 
appearance.  It  has  often  seemed  to  superficial 
observers  that  little  could  be  made  of  it.  But  the 
attempt  has  been  made.  And  those  who  have 
worked  with  it,  putting  skill  and  patience  into 
their  work,  have  been  agreeably  surprised.  They 
have  come  to  see  the  highest  possibilities  in  the 
commonest  lumps  of  clay. 

The  satisfaction  that  is  taken  in  the  common 
man  is  not  in  what  he  is  at  the  present  moment, 
but  in  what  he  has  shown  himself  capable  of  be 
coming.  Give  him  a  chance  and  all  the  graces 
may  be  his.  The  American  idealist  admits  that 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     71 

many  of  his  fellow  citizens  may  be  rather  dreary 
brethren,  but  so  were  many  of  the  kings  of  whom 
nothing  is  remembered  but  their  names  and 
dates.  Only  now  and  then  is  one  seen  who  is 
every  inch  a  king.  But  such  a  person  is  a  proof 
of  what  may  be  accomplished.  It  may  take  a  long 
time  for  the  rank  and  file  to  catch  up  with  their 
leaders.  But  where  the  few  are  to-day  the  many 
will  be  to-morrow ;  for  they  are  all  travelling  the 
same  road. 

The  visitor  in  the  United  States,  especially  if 
he  has  spent  his  time  in  the  great  cities  of  the 
East,  may  go  away  with  the  idea  that  democracy 
is  a  spent  force.  He  will  see  great  inequalities 
in  wealth  and  position.  He  will  be  struck  by  the 
fact  that  autocratic  powers  are  wielded  which 
would  not  be  tolerated  in  many  countries  of 
Europe.  He  will  notice  that  it  is  very  difficult  to 
give  direct  expression  to  the  will  of  the  people. 

But  he  will  make  a  mistake  if  he  attributes 
these  things  to  the  growth  of  an  aristocratic  senti 
ment.  They  are  a  part  of  an  evolution  that  is 
thoroughly  democratic.  The  distinctive  thing 
in  an  aristocracy  is  not  the  fact  that  certain  people 
enjoy  privileges.  It  lies  in  the  fact  that  these  privi- 


72     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

leged  people  form  a  class  that  is  looked  upon 
as  superior.  An  aristocratic  class  must  not  only 
take  itself  seriously;  it  must  be  taken  seriously 
by  others. 

In  America  there  are  groups  of  persons  more 
successful  than  the  average.  They  are  objects 
of  curiosity,  and,  if  they  are  well-behaved,  of 
respect.  Their  comings  and  goings  are  chronicled 
in  the  newspapers,  and  their  names  are  familiar. 
But  it  does  not  occur  to  the  average  man  that 
they  are  anything  more  than  fortunate  persons 
who  emerged  from  the  crowd,  and  who  by  and  by 
may  be  lost  in  the  crowd  again.  What  they  have 
done,  others  may  do  when  their  time  comes.  The 
inequalities  are  inequalities  of  circumstance  and 
not  of  nature. 

The  commonplace  American  follows  unworthy 
leaders  and  has  admiration  for  cheap  success. 
But  he  cherishes  no  illusions  in  regard  to  the  ob 
jects  of  his  admiration.  They  have  done  what 
he  would  like  to  do,  and  what  he  hopes  to  be 
able  to  do  sometime.  He  thinks  of  the  success 
ful  men  as  being  of  the  same  kind  with  himself. 
They  are  more  fortunate,  that  is  all. 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT    73 

IV 

The  same  temperamental  quality  is  seen  in  the 
American  idealist.  His  attitude  toward  his  spirit 
ual  leaders  is  seldom  that  of  meek  discipleship. 
It  is  rather  that  of  frank,  outspoken  comradeship. 
No  mysterious  barrier  separates  the  great  man 
from  the  common  man.  One  has  more,  the  other 
has  less,  that  is  all. 

The  men  who  have  cherished  the  finest  ideals 
have  insisted  that  these  should  be  shared  by  the 
multitude.  In  a  newspaper  of  sixty  years  ago 
there  is  this  contemporary  character  sketch : 
"  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  is  the  most  erratic  and 
capricious  man  in  America.  He  is  emphatically 
a  democrat  of  the  world,  and  believes  that  what 
Plato  thought,  another  man  may  think.  What 
Shakespeare  sang,  another  man  may  know  as 
well.  As  for  emperors,  kings,  queens,  princes,  or 
presidents,  he  looks  upon  them  as  children  in 
masquerade.  He  has  no  patience  with  the  chicken- 
hearted  who  refer  to  mouldy  records  or  old  al 
manacs  to  ascertain  if  they  may  say  that  their 
souls  are  their  own.  Mr.  Emerson  is  a  strange 
compound  of  contradictions.  Always  right  in 


74    THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

practice,  and  sometimes  in  theory.  He  is  a  so 
ciable,  accessible,  republican  sort  of  man,  and  a 
great  admirer  of  nature." 

Could  any  better  description  be  given  of  the 
kind  of  man  whom  Americans  delight  to  honor  *? 
This  "sociable,  accessible,  republican  sort  of 
/  man  "  happened  to  be  endowed  with  gifts  denied 
\  in  such  full  measure  to  his  countrymen.  But  they  / 
were  gifts  which  they  understood  and  appreci 
ated.  He  was  one  of  them,  and  expressed  and 
interpreted  their  habitual  thought.  Luther  used 
to  declare  that  no  one  who  had  never  had  trials 
and  temptations  could  understand  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  And  one  might  say  that  no  one  who 
had  never  taken  part  in  a  town  meeting,  or 
listened  to  the  talk  of  neighbors  at  the  country 
store,  or  traveled  in  an  "  accommodation  train  "  in 
the  Middle  West,  can  fully  understand  Emer 
son. 

Critics  have  often  written  of  the  optimism  of 
Emerson  as  if  he  were  one  of  those  who  did  not 
perceive  the  darker  side  of  things.  Nothing  could 
be  more  untrue  to  his  temper  of  mind.  Emerson 
was  cheerful,  but  he  never  pretended  that  the 
world  was  an  altogether  cheerful  place  to  live  in. 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT    75 

Indeed,  it  distinctly  needed  cheering  up,  and 
that,  according  to  him,  is  what  we  are  here  for. 

It  might  be  possible  to  make  out  a  list  of  mat 
ters  of  fact  treated  by  Emerson  and  his  friend 
Carlyle.  They  would  be  essentially  the  same. 
When  it  came  to  hard  facts,  one  was  as  unflinch 
ing  in  his  recognition  as  the  other.  There  was 
nothing  smug  in  Emerson's  philosophy.  He  never 
took  an  apologetic  attitude  nor  attempted  to 
minimize  difficulties.  There  was  no  attempt  to 
justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man.  But  while 
agreeing  in  regard  to  the  facts  the  friends  dif 
fered  as  to  their  conclusions.  In  reading  Car 
lyle  one  seems  to  stand  at  the  end  of  a  world 
struggle  that  has  proved  unavailing.  Everything 
has  been  tried,  and  everything  has  failed.  Alas ! 
Alas! 

Emerson  sees  the  same  facts,  but  he  seems  to 
be  standing  at  the  beginning.  The  moral  world 
is  still  without  form  and  void,  but  the  creative 
spirit  is  brooding  upon  it.  "  Sweet  is  the  genesis 
of  things."  Emerson  is  pleased  with  the  world, 
not  because  he  thinks  its  present  condition  is 
very  good,  but  because  he  sees  so  much  room 
for  it  to  become  better.  It  is  a  most  promising 


76     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

experiment.  It  furnishes  an  abundance  of  the  raw 
materials  of  righteousness. 

Nor  does  he  flatter  himself  that  the  task  of 
betterment  is  an  easy  one,  or  that  the  end  is  in 
sight.  It  is  not  a  world  where  wishes,  even  good 
wishes,  are  fulfilled  without  effort.  There  are  in 
exorable  laws  not  of  our  making.  The  whims  of 
good  people  are  not  respected. 

"  For  Destiny  never  swerves 

Nor  yields  to  man  the  helm." 

The  struggle  is  stern  and  unrelenting.  It  taxes 
all  our  energies.  And  yet  it  is  exhilarating.  There 
is  a  moral  quick-wittedness  which  sees  the  smile 
behind  the  threatening  mask  of  Fate.  Destiny  is 
after  all  a  good  comrade  for  the  brave  and  the 
self-reliant. 

"  He  forbids  to  despair, 

His  cheeks  mantle  with  mirth, 
And  the  unimagined  good  of  man 
Is  yeaning  at  the  birth. " 

The  riddle  of  existence  is  seen  not  from  the 
Old  World  point  of  view,  but  from  that  of  the 
new.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  a  surprise.  The  Sphinx 
of  Emerson  is  not  carved  in  stone.  It  is  not  silent 
and  motionless,  waiting  for  answers  that  do  not 
come. 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     77 

It  is  the  American  Sphinx  leading  in  a  game  of 
hide-and-seek.  The  mystery  of  existence  baffles 
us,  not  because  there  is  no  answer,  but  because 
there  are  so  many.  They  are  infinite  in  number, 
and  all  of  them  are  true.  They  wait  for  the  mind 
large  enough  to  harbor  them  in  all  their  variety, 
and  serene  enough  not  to  be  annoyed  because 
their  contradictions  are  not  at  once  reconciled. 

The  catalogue  of  ills  may  be  never  so  long, 
but  it  fails  to  depress  one  who  sees  everything  in 
the  making. 

"  I  heard  a  poet  answer 

Aloud  and  cheerfully, 
'Say  on,  sweet  Sphinx!  thy  dirges 
Are  pleasant  songs  to  me.' 

"  Uprose  the  merry  Sphinx, 

And  crouched  no  more  in  stone  ; 
She  melted  into  purple  cloud, 
She  silvered  in  the  moon." 

This  conception  of  the  merry  Sphinx  may 
seem  strange  to  the  dyspeptic  philosopher  ponder 
ing  on  the  inscrutableness  of  the  universe.  But 
the  prospectors  in  the  mining  camps  of  the  Far 
West,  and  the  builders  of  new  cities  understand 
what  Emerson  meant.  Their  experience  of  the 
ups  and  downs  of  fortune  has  taught  them  how 


78     THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

to  find  pleasure  in  uncertainty.  You  never  can 
tell  how  anything  will  turn  out  till  you  try. 
That  Js  the  fun  of  it.  They  are  quite  ready  to 
believe  that  the  same  thing  holds  good  in  the 
higher  life. 

Or  take  the  lines  on  "Worship."  How  can 
Worship  be  personified?  Emerson's  picture  is 
not  that  of  a  patriarch  on  bended  knee ;  it  is  that 
of  a  vigorous  youth  picking  himself  up  after  he 
has  been  knocked  down  by  his  antagonist. 

"  This  is  he,  who,  felled  by  foes, 

Sprung  harmless  up,  refreshed  by  blows." 

Religion  is  a  kind  of  spiritual  resilience.  It  is 
that  which  makes  a  man  come  back  with  new 
vigor  to  his  work  after  his  first  failure.  It  is  the 
ability  to  make  a  new  beginning. 

In  Emerson  the  American  hurry  is  transformed 
into  something  of  spiritual  significance.  A  new 
commandment  is  given  to  the  good  man — Be 
quick!  Keep  moving! 

"  Trenchant  Time  behoves  to  hurry, 

O  wise  man,  hearest  thou  the  least  part, 
Seest  thou  the  rushing  metamorphosis, 

Dissolving  all  that  fixture  is, 

Melts  things  that  be  to  things  that  seem." 


THE  AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT  79 

Morality  and  religion  must  be  speeded  up  if  they 
are  to  do  any  useful  work  in  this  swift  world. 

If  the  ideals  of  the  saints  and  reformers  were 
criticized,  so  were  those  of  the  scholars.  Matthew 
Arnold's  definition  of  culture  was  that  of  a  man 
of  books.  It  was  the  knowledge  of  the  best  that 
had  been  said  and  known  in  the  past.  Emerson's 
lines  entitled  "Culture"  begin  with  a  characteris 
tic  question  and  end  with  an  equally  characteristic 
affirmation.  The  question  is  — 

"  Can  rules  or  tutors  educate 
The  semigod  whom  we  await  ? " 

The  affirmation  is  that  the  man  of  culture  is 
one  who 

"  to  his  native  centre  fast, 
Shall  into  Future  fuse  the  Past, 
And  the  world's  flowing  fates  in  his  own  mould  recast. " 

According  to  this  definition  Abraham  Lincoln, 
with  his  slight  knowledge  of  the  best  things  of 
the  past,  but  with  the  power  to  fuse  such  know 
ledge  as  he  had  and  to  recast  it  in  his  own  mould, 
was  a  man  of  culture.  And  all  true  Americans 
would  agree  with  him. 

Emerson,  like  the  "  sociable,  accessible,  repub 
lican  sort  of  man  "  that  he  was,  was  the  foe  of 


80    THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

special  privilege.  The  best  things  were,  in  his 
judgment,  the  property  of  all.  He  would  take  re 
ligion  from  the  custody  of  the  priests,  and  culture 
from  the  hands  of  schoolmasters,  and  restore  them 
to  their  proper  place,  among  the  inalienable  rights 
of  man.  They  were  simply  forms  of  the  pursuit 
of  happiness  of  which  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence  speaks.  It  is  a  right  of  which  no  po 
tentates  can  justly  deprive  the  citizen. 

Above  all,  he  would  protest  against  everything 
which  tends  to  deprive  any  one  of  the  happiness 
of  the  forward  look.  There  was  a  cheerful  confi 
dence  that  the  great  forces  are  on  our  side.  Now 
and  then  the  clouds  gather  and  obscure  the  vision, 
but: 

"  There  are  open  hours 
When  God's  will  sallies  free 
And  the  dull  idiot  may  see 
The  flowing  fortunes  of  a  thousand  years. ' ' 

This  is  the  American  doctrine  of  "  Manifest  Des 
tiny  "  spiritually  discerned. 


But  one  need  not  go  so  far  back  as  Emerson 
to  see  the  higher  reaches  of  the  American  tem 
perament.  Perhaps  in  no  one  have  they  been 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT   81 

revealed  with  more  distinctness  than  in  William 
James.  There  are  those  who  consider  it  dispraise 
of  a  philosopher  to  suggest  that  his  work  has 
local  color.  However  that  may  be,  William 
James  thought  as  an  American  as  certainly  as 
Plato  thought  as  a  Greek.  His  way  of  philoso 
phizing  was  one  that  belonged  to  the  land  of 
his  birth. 

He  was  as  distinctly  American  as  was  Daniel 
Boone.  Daniel  Boone  was  no  renegade  taking 
to  the  woods  that  he  might  relapse  into  savagery. 
He  was  a  civilized  man  who  preferred  to  be  the 
maker  of  civilization  rather  than  to  be  its  victim. 
He  preferred  to  blaze  his  own  way  through  the 
forest.  When  he  saw  the  smoke  of  a  neighbor's 
chimney  it  was  time  for  him  to  move  on.  So 
William  James  was  led  by  instinct  from  the 
crowded  highways  to  the  dim  border-lands  of 
human  experience.  He  preferred  to  dwell  in  the 
debatable  lands.  With  a  quizzical  smile  he  lis 
tened  to  the  dignitaries  of  philosophy.  He  found 
their  completed  systems  too  stuffy.  He  loved  the 
wildernesses  of  thought  where  shy  wild  things 
hide  —  half  hopes,  half  realities.  They  are  not 
quite  true  now,  —  but  they  may  be  by  and  by. 


82   THE  AMERICAN   TEMPERAMENT 

As  other  men  are  interested  in  the  actual,  so 
he  was  interested  in  the  possible.  The  possibili 
ties  are  not  so  highly  finished  as  the  facts  that 
have  been  proved,  but  there  are  a  great  many 
more  of  them,  and  they  are  much  more  import 
ant.  There  are  more  things  in  the  unexplored 
forest  than  in  the  clearing  at  its  edge.  Truth  to 
him  was  not  a  field  with  metes  and  bounds.  It 
was  a  continent  awaiting  settlement.  First  the 
bold  pathfinders  must  adventure  into  it.  Its  vast 
spaces  were  infinitely  inviting,  its  undeveloped 
resources  were  alluring.  And  not  only  did  the 
path-finder  interest  him  but  the  path-loser  as  well. 
But  for  his  heedless  audacity  the  work  of  ex 
ploration  would  languish.  Was  ever  a  philoso 
pher  so  humorously  tender  to  the  intellectual 
vagabonds,  the  waifs  and  strays  of  the  spiritual 
world ! 

Their  reports  of  vague  meanderings  in  the  bor 
der-land  were  listened  to  without  scorn.  They 
might  be  ever  so  absent-minded  and  yet  have 
stumbled  upon  something  which  wiser  men  had 
missed.  No  one  was  more  keen  to  criticize  the 
hard-and-fast  dogmas  of  the  wise  and  prudent  or 
more  willing  to  learn  what  might,  by  chance, 


THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT     83 

have  been  revealed  unto  babes.  The  one  thing 
he  demanded  was  space.  His  universe  must  not 
be  finished  or  inclosed.  After  a  rational  system 
had  been  formulated  and  declared  to  be  the 
Whole,  his  first  instinct  was  to  get  away  from  it. 
He  was  sure  that  there  must  be  more  outside 
than  there  was  inside.  "The  ' through-and- 
through'  universe  seems  to  suffocate  me  with  its 
infallible,  impeccable  all-pervasiveness.  Its  neces 
sity  with  no  possibilities,  its  relations  with  no 
subjects,  make  me  feel  as  if  I  had  entered  into  a 
contract  with  no  reserved  rights." 

Formal  philosophy  seemed  to  him  to  be  "too 
buttoned-up  and  white-chokered  and  clean-shaven 
a  thing  to  speak  for  the  vast,  slow-breathing,  un 
conscious  Kosmos  with  its  dread  abysses  and  its 
unknown  tides.  The  freedom  we  want  is  not  the 
freedom,  with  a  string  tied  to  its  leg  and  war 
ranted  not  to  fly  away,  of  that  philosophy.  Let 
it  fly  away,  we  say,  from  us.  What  then  *?  " 

To  this  American  there  must  be  a  true  demo 
cracy  among  the  faculties  of  the  mind.  The  log 
ical  understanding  must  not  be  allowed  to  put  on 
priggish  airs.  The  feelings  have  their  rights  also. 
"  They  may  be  as  prophetic  and  as  anticipatory 


84    THE  AMERICAN  TEMPERAMENT 

of  truth  as  anything  else  we  have."  There  must 
be  give  and  take;  "what  hope  is  there  of  squar 
ing  and  settling  opinions  unless  Absolutism  will 
hold  parley  on  this  common  ground  and  admit 
that  all  philosophies  are  hypotheses,  to  which  all 
our  faculties,  emotional  as  well  as  logical,  help 
us,  and  the  truest  of  which  will  in  the  final  in 
tegration  of  things  be  found  in  possession  of  the 
men  whose  faculties  on  the  whole  had  the  best 
divining  power4?" 

Do  not  those  words  give  us  a  glimpse  of  the 
American  mind  in  its  natural  working.  Its  gen 
ius  is  anticipatory.  It  is  searching  for  a  common 
ground  on  which  all  may  meet.  It  puts  its  trust 
not  in  the  thinker  who  can  put  his  thoughts  in 
the  most  neat  form,  but  the  man  whose  faculties 
have  on  the  whole  the  best  divining  power. 

To  listen  to  William  James  was  to  experience 
an  illogical  elation — and  to  feel  justified  in  it. 
He  was  an  unsparing  critic  of  things  as  they 
are,  but  his  criticism  left  us  in  no  mood  of  de 
pression.  Our  interest  is  with  things  as  they  are 
going  to  be.  The  universe  is  growing.  Let  us 
grow  with  it 


THE  UNACCUSTOMED  EARS  OF 
EUROPE 


WHEN,  as  a  child,  I  learned  the  Westmin 
ster  Catechism  by  heart  I  found  the  Ten 
Commandments  easy  to  remember.  There  was 
something  straightforward  in  these  prohibitions. 
Once  started  in  the  right  direction  one  could 
hardly  stray  from  the  path.  But  I  stumbled  over 
the  question,  in  regard  to  certain  Commandments, 
"  What  are  the  reasons  annexed  *?  " 

That  a  commandment  should  be  committed  to 
memory  seemed  just.  I  was  prepared  to  submit 
to  the  severest  tests  of  verbal  accuracy.  But 
that  there  should  be  "  reasons  annexed,"  and 
that  these  also  should  be  remembered,  seemed 
to  my  youthful  understanding  a  grievance.  It 
made  the  path  of  the  obedient  hard.  To  this  day 
there  is  a  haziness  about  the  "  reasons  "  that  con 
trasts  with  the  sharp  outlines  of  the  command 
ments. 


86     THE  UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

I  fancy  that  news-gatherers  have  the  same  ex 
perience.  They  are  diligent  in  collecting  items 
of  news  and  reporting  them  to  the  world,  but  it  is 
a  real  hardship  to  them  to  have  to  give  any  rational 
account  of  these  bits  of  fact.  They  tell  what  is 
done  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  but  they  for 
get  to  mention  "the  moving  why  they  did  it." 
The  consequence  is  that,  in  this  age  of  instan 
taneous  communication,  we  know  what  is  going 
on  in  other  countries,  but  it  seems  very  irrational. 
The  rational  elements  have  been  lost  in  the  pro 
cess  of  transmission. 

There  has,  for  example,  been  no  lack  of  news 
cabled  across  the  Atlantic  in  regard  to  the  nomi 
nations  for  President  of  the  United  States.  The 
European  reader  is  made  aware  that  a  great  deal 
of  strong  feeling  has  been  evoked,  and  strong 
language  used.  When  a  picturesque  term  of  re 
proach  has  been  hurled  by  one  candidate  at  an 
other  it  is  promptly  reported  to  a  waiting  world. 
But  the  "  reasons  annexed  "  are  calmly  ignored. 
The  consequence  is  that  the  reader  is  confirmed 
in  his  exaggerated  idea  of  the  nervous  irritability 
of  the  American  people.  There  seems  to  be  a 
periodicity  in  their  seizures.  At  intervals  of  four 


OF  EUROPE  87 

years  they  indulge  in  an  orgy  of  mutual  recrim 
ination,  and  then  suddenly  return  to  their  normal 
state  of  money-getting.  It  is  all  very  unaccount 
able.  Doubtless  the  most  charitable  explanation 
is  the  climate. 

It  was  after  giving  prominence  to  an  unusually 
vivid  bit  of  political  vituperation  that  a  conserv 
ative  London  newspaper  remarked,  "  All  this  is 
characteristically  American,  but  it  shocks  the 
unaccustomed  ears  of  Europe." 

As  I  read  the  rebuke  I  felt  positively  ashamed 
of  my  country  and  its  untutored  ways.  I  pictured 
Europe  as  a  dignified  lady  of  mature  years  listen 
ing  to  the  screams  issuing  from  her  neighbor's 
nursery.  She  had  not  been  used  to  hearing 
naughty  words  called  out  in  such  a  loud  tone 
of  voice.  Instead  of  discussing  their  grievances 
calmly,  they  were  actually  calling  one  another 
names. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  feeling  of  chastened 
humility  that  I  turned  to  the  columns  devoted  to 
the  more  decorous  doings  of  Europe.  Here  I 
should  find  examples  worthy  of  consideration. 
They  are  drawn  from  the  homes  of  ancient  civil 
ity.  Would  that  our  rude  politicians  might  be 


88     THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

brought  under  these  refining  influences  and  learn 
how  to  behave ! 

But  alas !  When  we  drop  in  upon  our  neigh 
bors,  unannounced,  things  are  sometimes  not  so 
tidy  as  they  are  on  the  days  "at  home."  The 
hostess  is  flustered  and  evidently  has  troubles  of 
her  own.  So,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  it  is  with 
Dame  Europe's  household.  The  visitor  from 
across  the  Atlantic  is  surprised  at  the  obstreper- 
ousness  of  the  more  vigorous  members  of  the 
family.  Evidently  a  great  many  interesting  things 
are  going  on,  but  the  standard  of  deportment  is 
not  high. 

While  the  unaccustomed  ears  of  Europe  were 
shocked  at  the  shrill  cries  from  the  rival  conven 
tions  at  Chicago  and  Baltimore,  there  was  equal 
turbulence  in  the  Italian  Parliament  at  Rome. 
There  were  shouts  and  catcalls  and  every  sign  of 
uncontrollable  violence.  What  are  the  "  reasons 
annexed"  to  all  this  uproar*?  I  do  not  know.  In 
Budapest  such  unparliamentary  expressions  as 
"swine,"  "liar,"  "thief,"  and  "assassin"  were 
freely  used  in  debate.  An  honorable  member 
who  had  been  expelled  for  the  use  of  too  strong 
language,  returned  to  "shoot  up"  the  House. 


OF  EUROPE  89 

The  chairman,  after  dodging  three  shots,  declared 
that  he  must  positively  insist  on  better  order. 

In  the  German  Reichstag  a  member  threatens 
the  Kaiser  with  the  fate  of  Charles  the  First,  if 
he  does  not  speedily  mend  his  ways.  He  sug 
gests  as  a  fit  Imperial  residence  the  castle  where 
the  Mad  King  of  Bavaria  was  allowed  to  exercise 
his  erratic  energies  without  injury  to  the  com 
monweal.  At  the  mention  of  Charles  the  First 
the  chamber  was  in  an  uproar,  and  amid  a  tumult 
of  angry  voices  the  session  was  brought  to  a 
close. 

In  Russia,  unseemly  clamor  is  kept  from  the 
carefully  guarded  ears  of  the  Czar.  There  art 
conspires  with  nature  to  produce  peace.  We  read 
of  the  Czar's  recent  visit  to  his  ancient  capital: 
"The  police  during  the  previous  night  made 
three  thousand  arrests.  The  Czar  and  Czarina 
drove  through  the  city  amid  the  ringing  of  bells, 
and  with  banners  flying." 

On  reading  this  item  the  American  reader 
plucks  up  heart.  If,  during  the  Chicago  conven 
tion,  the  police  had  made  three  thousand  arrests 
the  sessions  might  have  been  as  quiet  as  those 
of  the  Duma. 


90     THE  UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

Even  the  proceedings  of  the  British  House  of 
Commons  are  disappointing  to  the  pilgrim  in 
search  of  decorum.  The  Mother  of  Parliaments 
has  trouble  with  her  unruly  brood. 

We  enter  the  sacred  precincts  as  a  Member 
rises  to  a  point  of  order. 

"  I  desire  to  ask  your  ruling,  Mr.  Speaker,  as 
to  whether  the  honorable  gentleman  is  entitled 
to  allude  to  Members  of  the  House  as  miscre 
ants." 

The  Speaker :  "  I  do  not  think  the  term  '  mis 
creant  '  is  a  proper  Parliamentary  expression." 

This  is  very  elementary  teaching,  but  it  ap 
pears  that  Mr.  Speaker  is  not  infrequently  com 
pelled  to  repeat  his  lesson.  It  is  "  line  upon  line 
and  precept  upon  precept." 

The  records  of  the  doings  of  the  House  con 
tain  episodes  which  would  be  considered  exciting 
in  Arizona.  We  read :  "  For  five  minutes  the 
Honorable  George  Lansbury  defied  the  Speaker, 
insulted  the  Prime  Minister,  and  scorned  the 
House  of  Commons.  He  raved  in  an  ecstasy  of 
passion;  challenging,  taunting,  and  defying."  The 
trouble  began  with  a  statement  of  Mr.  Asquith's. 
"  Then  up  jumped  Mr.  Lansbury,  his  face  con- 


OF  EUROPE  91 

torted  with  passion,  and  his  powerful  rasping 
voice  dominating  the  whole  House.  Shouting 
and  waving  his  arms,  he  approached  the  Govern 
ment  Front  Bench  with  a  curious  crouching  gait, 
like  a  boxer  leaving  his  corner  in  the  ring.  One 
or  two  Liberals  on  the  bench  behind  Mr.  Asquith 
half  rose,  but  the  Prime  Minister  sat  stolidly 
gazing  above  the  heads  of  the  opposition,  his 
arms  folded,  and  his  lips  pursed.  Mr.  Lansbury 
had  worked  himself  up  into  a  state  of  frenzy  and, 
facing  the  Prime  Minister,  he  shouted,  '  You  are 
beneath  my  contempt !  Call  yourself  a  gentle 
man  !  You  ought  to  be  driven  from  public  life/  " 
I  cannot  remember  any  scene  like  this  in 
Disraeli's  novels.  The  House  of  Commons  used 
to  be  called  the  best  club  in  Europe.  But  that, 
says  the  Conservative  critic,  was  before  the  mem 
bers  were  paid. 

II 

But  certain  changes,  like  the  increased  cost  of 
living,  are  going  on  everywhere.  The  fact  seems 
to  be  that  all  over  the  civilized  world  there  is  a 
noticeable  falling-off  in  good  manners  in  public 
discussion.  It  is  useless  for  one  country  to  point 


92     THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

the  finger  of  scorn  at  another,  or  to  assume  an  air 
of  injured  politeness.  It  is  more  conducive  to 
good  understanding  to  join  in  a  general  confes 
sion  of  sin.  We  are  all  miserable  offenders,  and 
there  is  little  to  choose  between  us.  The  con 
ventionalities  which  bind  society  together  are 
like  the  patent  glue  we  see  advertised  on  the 
streets.  A  plate  has  been  broken  and  then  joined 
together.  The  strength  of  the  adhesive  substance 
is  shown  by  the  way  it  holds  up  a  stone  of  con 
siderable  weight  attached  to  it.  The  plate  thus 
mended  holds  together  admirably  till  it  is  put  in 
hot  water. 

I  have  no  doubt  but  that  a  conservative  Chinese 
gentleman  would  tell  you  that  since  the  Republic 
came  in  there  has  been  a  sad  falling-off  in  the  ob 
servance  of  the  rules  of  propriety  as  laid  down 
by  Confucius.  The  Conservative  newspapers  of 
England  bewail  the  fact  that  there  has  been  a 
lamentable  change  since  the  present  Government 
came  in.  The  arch  offender  is  "that  political 
Mahdi,  Lloyd  George,  whose  false  prophecies 
have  made  deluded  dervishes  of  hosts  of  British 
workmen,  and  who  has  corrupted  the  manners  of 
Parliament  itself." 


OF  EUROPE  93 

This  wicked  Mahdi,  by  his  appeals  to  the 
passions  of  the  populace,  has  destroyed  the  old 
English  reverence  for  Law. 

I  do  not  know  what  may  be  the  cause,  but  the 
American  visitor  does  notice  that  the  English 
attitude  towards  the  laws  of  the  realm  is  not  so 
devout  as  he  had  been  led  to  expect.  We  have 
from  our  earliest  youth  been  taught  to  believe 
that  the  law-abidingness  of  the  Englishman  was 
innate  and  impeccable.  It  was  not  that,  like  the 
good  man  of  whom  the  Psalmist  speaks,  he  medi 
tated  on  the  law  day  and  night.  He  did  n't  need 
to.  Decent  respect  for  the  law  was  in  his  blood. 
He  simply  could  not  help  conforming  to  it. 

And  this  impression  is  confirmed  by  the  things 
which  the  tourist  goes  to  see.  The  stately  man 
sions  embowered  in  green  and  guarded  by  im 
memorial  oaks  are  accepted  as  symbolic  of  an 
ordered  life.  The  multitudinous  rooks  suggest 
security  which  comes  from  triumphant  legality. 
No  irresponsible  person  shoots  them.  When 
one  enters  a  cathedral  close  he  feels  that  he  is  in 
a  land  that  frowns  on  the  crudity  of  change. 
Here  everything  is  a  "  thousand  years  the  same." 
And  how  decent  is  the  demeanor  of  a  verger ! 


94     THE   UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

When  the  pilgrim  from  Kansas  arrives  at  an 
ancient  English  inn  he  feels  that  he  must  be  on 
his  good  behavior.  Boots  in  his  green  apron  is  a 
lesson  to  him.  He  is  not  like  a  Western  hotel 
bell-boy  on  the  way  to  becoming  something  else. 
He  knows  his  place.  Everybody,  he  imagines,  in 
this  country  knows  his  place,  and  there  is  no 
unseemly  crowding  and  pushing.  And  what 
stronger  proof  can  there  be  that  this  is  a  land 
where  law  is  reverenced  than  the  demeanor  of  a 
London  policeman.  There  is  no  truculence  about 
him,  no  show  of  physical  force.  He  is  so  mild- 
eyed  and  soft  of  speech  that  one  feels  that  he  has 
been  shielded  from  rude  contact  with  the  world. 
He  represents  the  Law  in  a  land  where  law  is 
sacred.  He  is  instinctively  obeyed.  He  has  but 
to  wave  his  hand  and  traffic  stops. 

When  the  traveler  is  told  that  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  House  of  Commons  traffic  is  stopped  to 
allow  a  Member  to  cross  the  street,  his  admiration 
increases.  Fancy  a  Congressman  being  treated 
with  such  respect !  But  the  argument  which,  on 
the  whole,  makes  the  deepest  impression  is  the 
deferential  manners  of  the  tradesmen  with  their 
habit  of  saying,  "Thank  you,"  apropos  of 


OF  EUROPE  95 

nothing  at  all.  It  seems  an  indication  of  per 
petual  gratitude  over  the  fact  that  things  are  as 
they  are. 

But  when  one  comes  to  listen  to  the  talk  of  the 
day  one  is  surprised  to  find  a  surprising  lack  of 
docility.  I  doubt  whether  the  Englishman  has 
the  veneration  for  the  abstract  idea  of  Law  which 
is  common  among  Americans.  Indeed,  he  is  ac 
customed  to  treat  most  abstractions  with  scant 
courtesy.  There  is  nothing  quite  corresponding 
to  the  average  American's  feeling  about  a  deci 
sion  of  the  Supreme  Court.  The  Law  has  spoken, 
let  all  the  land  keep  silent.  It  seems  like  treason 
to  criticize  it,  like  anarchy  to  defy  it. 

Tennyson's  words  about "  reverence  for  the  laws 
ourselves  have  made  "  needs  to  be  interpreted  by 
English  history.  It  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  reverence 
and  has  many  limitations.  A  good  deal  depends 
on  what  is  meant  by  "  ourselves."  An  act  of  Par 
liament  does  not  at  once  become  an  object  of 
reverence  by  the  members  of  the  opposition 
party.  It  was  not,  they  feel,  made  by  them,  it  was 
made  by  a  Government  which  was  violently  op 
posed  to  them  and  which  was  bent  on  ruining 
the  country. 


96     THE  UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

It  is  only  after  a  sufficient  time  has  elapsed  to 
allow  for  the  partisan  origin  to  be  forgotten,  and 
for  it  to  become  assimilated  to  the  habits  of 
thought  and  manner  of  life  of  the  people  that  it  is 
deeply  respected.  The  English  reverence  is  not 
for  statute  law,  but  for  the  common  law  which  is 
the  slow  accretion  of  ages.  A  new  enactment  is 
treated  like  the  new  boy  at  school.  He  must 
submit  to  a  period  of  severe  hazing  before  he  is 
given  a  place  of  any  honor. 

To  the  American  when  an  act  of  Congress  has 
been  declared  constitutional,  a  decent  respect  for 
the  opinion  of  mankind  seems  to  suggest  that 
verbal  criticism  should  cease.  The  council  of 
perfection  is  that  the  law  should  be  obeyed  till 
such  time  as  it  can  be  repealed  or  explained 
away.  If  it  should  become  a  dead  letter,  pro 
priety  would  demand  that  no  evil  should  be 
spoken  of  it.  Since  the  days  of  Andrew  Jackson 
the  word  "  nullification "  has  had  an  ugly  and 
dangerous  sound. 

But  to  the  Englishman  this  attitude  seems 
somewhat  superstitious.  The  period  of  opposi 
tion  to  a  measure  is  not  ended  when  it  has  passed 
Parliament  and  received  the  royal  assent.  The 


OF  EUROPE  97 

question  is  whether  it  will  receive  the  assent  of 
the  people.  Can  it  get  itself  obeyed  ?  If  it  can, 
then  its  future  is  assured  for  many  generations. 
But  it  must  pass  through  an  exciting  period  of 
probation. 

If  it  is  a  matter  that  arouses  much  feeling  the 
British  way  is  for  some  one  to  disobey  and  take 
the  consequences.  Passive  resistance  —  with  such 
active  measures  as  may  make  the  life  of  the 
enforcers  of  the  law  a  burden  to  them  —  is  a 
recognized  method  of  political  and  religious 
propagandism. 

In  periods  when  the  national  life  has  run  most 
swiftly  this  kind  of  resistance  to  what  has  been 
considered  the  tyranny  of  lawmakers  has  always 
been  notable.  Emerson's  "the  chambers  of  the 
great  are  jails  "  was  literally  true  of  the  England 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  Every  one  who  made 
any  pretension  to  moral  leadership  was  intent  on 
going  to  jail  in  behalf  of  some  principle  or  an 
other. 

John  Bunyan  goes  to  jail  rather  than  attend 
the  parish  church,  George  Fox  goes  to  jail  rather 
than  take  off  his  hat  in  the  presence  of  the  ma 
gistrate.  Why  should  he  do  so  when  there  was 


98     THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

no  Scripture  for  it  ?  When  it  was  said  that  the 
Scripture  had  nothing  to  say  about  hats,  he  was 
ready  with  his  triumphant  reference  to  Daniel 
in,  21,  where  it  is  said  that  the  three  Hebrew 
children  wore  "their  coats,  their  hosen,  their 
hats  and  their  other  garments  "  in  the  fiery  fur 
nace.  If  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abed-nego  wore 
their  hats  before  Nebuchadnezzar  and  kept  them 
on  even  in  the  fiery  furnace,  why  should  a  free- 
born  Englishman  take  his  hat  off  in  the  presence 
of  a  petty  Justice  of  the  Peace  ?  Fervent  Fifth 
Monarchy  men  were  willing  to  die  rather  than 
acknowledge  any  king  but  King  Jesus  who  was 
about  to  come  to  reign.  Non-juring  bishops  were 
willing  to  go  to  jail  rather  than  submit  to  the 
judgment  of  Parliament  as  to  who  should  be 
king  in  England.  Puritans  and  Covenanters  of 
the  more  logical  sort  refused  to  accept  toleration 
unless  it  were  offered  on  their  own  terms.  They 
had  been  a  "  persecuted  remnant "  and  they  pro 
posed  to  remain  such  or  know  the  reason  why. 

Beneath  his  crust  of  conformity  the  Briton  has 
an  admiration  for  these  recalcitrant  individuals 
who  will  neither  bow  the  knee  to  Baal  nor  to  his 
betters.  He  likes  a  man  who  is  a  law  unto  him- 


OF  EUROPE  99 

self.  Though  he  has  little  enthusiasm  for  the 
abstract  "  rights  of  man,"  he  is  a  great  believer 
in  "  the  liberty  of  prophesying."  The  prophet 
is  not  without  honor,  even  while  he  is  being 
stoned. 

Just  at  this  time  things  are  moving  almost  as 
rapidly  as  they  did  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
There  is  the  same  clash  of  opinion  and  violence 
of  party  spirit.  All  sorts  of  non-conformities 
struggle  for  a  hearing.  One  is  reminded  of  that 
most  stirring  period,  which  is  so  delightful  to 
read  about,  and  which  must  have  been  so  trying 
for  quiet  people  to  live  through. 

A  host  of  earnest  and  wide-awake  persons  are 
engaged  in  the  task  of  doing  what  they  are  told 
not  to  do.  Their  enthusiasm  takes  the  form  of 
resistance  to  some  statute  made  or  proposed. 

The  conscientious  women  who  throw  stones 
through  shop  windows,  and  lay  violent  hands  on 
cabinet  ministers,  do  so,  avowedly,  to  bring  cer 
tain  laws  into  disrepute.  They  go  on  hunger- 
strikes,  not  in  order  to  be  released  from  prison, 
but  in  order  to  be  treated  as  political  prisoners. 
They  insist  that  their  methods  should  be  recog 
nized  as  acts  of  legitimate  warfare.  They  may  be 


ioo   THE   UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

extreme  in  their  actions,  but  they  are  not  alone 
in  their  theory. 

The  Insurance  Law,  by  which  all  workers 
whose  wages  are  below  a  certain  sum  are  com- 
pulsorily  insured  against  sickness  and  the  losses 
that  follow  it,  is  just  going  into  effect.  Its  pro 
visions  are  necessarily  complicated,  and  its  ad 
ministration  must  at  first  be  difficult.  The 
Insurance-Law  Resisters  are  organized  to  nullify 
the  act.  Its  enormities  are  held  up  before  all  eyes, 
and  it  is  flouted  in  every  possible  way.  According 
to  this  law,  a  lady  is  compelled  to  pay  three 
pence  a  week  toward  the  insurance  fund  for  each 
servant  in  her  employ.  Will  she  pay  that  three 
pence  ?  No !  Though  twenty  acts  of  Parliament 
should  declare  that  it  must  be  done,  she  will  re 
sist.  As  for  keeping  accounts,  and  putting  stamps 
in  a  book,  she  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  What 
is  it  about  a  stamp  act  that  arouses  such  fierce 
ness  of  resistance  ? 

High-born  ladies  declare  that  they  would  rather 
go  to  jail  than  obey  such  a  law.  At  a  meeting  at 
Albert  Hall  the  Resisters  were  addressed  by  a 
duchess  who  was  "  supported  by  a  man-servant." 
What  can  a  mere  Act  of  Parliament  do  when 


OF 

confronted  by  such  a  combination  as  that?  Pas 
sive  resistance  takes  on  heroic  proportions  when 
a  duchess  and  a  man-servant  confront  the  Law 
with  haughty  immobility. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Tom  Mann  goes  to 
jail,  amid  the  applause  of  organized  labor,  for 
advising  the  British  soldier  not  to  obey  orders 
when  he  is  commanded  to  fire  on  British  work- 
ingmen. 

Mr.  Tom  Mann  is  a  labor  agitator,  while  Mr. 
Bonar  Law  is  the  leader  of  the  Conservative 
party ;  but  when  it  comes  to  legislation  which  he 
does  not  like,  Mr.  Bonar  Law's  language  is  fully 
as  incendiary.  He  is  not  content  with  opposing 
the  Irish  Home  Rule  Bill :  he  gives  notice  that 
when  it  has  become  a  law  the  opposition  will  be 
continued  in  a  more  serious  form.  The  passage 
of  the  bill,  he  declares,  will  be  the  signal  for  civil 
war.  Ulster  will  fight.  Parliament  may  pass  the 
Home  Rule  Bill,  but  when  it  does  so  its  troubles 
will  have  just  begun.  Where  will  it  find  the 
troops  to  coerce  the  province  *? 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  Unionist  Mem 
bers  of  Parliament,  addressing  a  great  meeting  at 
Belfast  says,  "  You  are  sometimes  asked  whether 


ii&2  -;FHE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 


you  propose  to  resist  the  English  army  ?  I  reply 
that  even  if  this  Government  had  the  wickedness 
(which,  on  the  whole,  I  believe),  it  is  wholly 
lacking  in  the  nerve  required  to  give  an  order 
which  in  my  deliberate  judgment  would  shatter 
for  years  the  civilization  of  these  islands."  If  the 
Government  does  not  have  the  nerve  to  employ 
its  troops,  "  It  will  be  for  the  moon-lighters  and 
the  cattle-maimers  to  conquer  Ulster  themselves, 
and  it  will  be  for  you  to  show  whether  you  are 
worse  men,  or  your  enemies  better  men,  than  the 
forefathers  of  you  both.  But  I  note  with  satisfac 
tion  that  you  are  preparing  yourselves  by  the 
practice  of  exercises,  and  by  the  submission  to 
discipline,  for  the  struggle  which  is  not  unlikely 
to  test  your  determination.  The  Nationalists  are 
determined  to  rule  you.  You  are  determined  not 
to  be  ruled.  A  collision  of  wills  so  sharp  may 
well  defy  the  resources  of  a  peaceful  solution. 
.  .  .  On  this  we  are  agreed,  that  the  crisis  has 
called  into  existence  one  of  those  supreme  issues 
of  conscience  amid  which  the  ordinary  landmarks 
of  permissible  resistance  to  technical  law  are  sub 
merged." 

When  one  goes  to  the  Church  to  escape  from 


OF   EUROPE  103 

these  sharp  antagonisms,  he  is  confronted  with 
huge  placards  giving  notice  of  meetings  to  pro 
test  against  "  The  Robbery  of  God."  The  robber 
in  this  case  is  the  Government,  which  proposes 
to  disendow,  as  well  as  disestablish,  the  Church 
in  Wales.  Noble  lords  denounce  the  outrage. 
Mr.  Lloyd  George  replies  by  reminding  their 
lordships  that  their  landed  estates  were,  before 
the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries  under  Henry 
VIII,  Church  property.  If  they  wish  to  make 
restitution  of  the  spoil  which  their  ancestors  took, 
well  and  good.  But  let  them  not  talk  about  the 
robbery  of  God,  while  their  hands  are  "  dripping 
with  the  fat  of  sacrilege." 

The  retort  is  effective,  but  it  does  not  make 
Mr.  Lloyd  George  beloved  by  the  people  to 
whom  it  is  addressed.  Twitting  on  facts  has  al 
ways  been  considered  unmannerly. 

in 

When  we  hear  the  acrimonious  discussions 
and  the  threats  of  violence,  it  is  well  to  consider 
the  reason  for  it  all.  I  think  the  reason  is  one 
that  is  not  discreditable  to  those  concerned.  These 
are  not  ordinary  times,  and  they  are  not  to  be 


104   THE   UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

judged  by  ordinary  standards.  England  is  at  the 
present  time  passing  through  a  revolution,  the  is 
sues  of  which  are  still  in  doubt.  Revolutionary 
passions  have  been  liberated  by  the  rapid  course 
of  events.  "  Every  battle  of  the  warrior  is  with 
confused  noise."  The  confused  noise  may  be  dis 
agreeable  to  persons  of  sensitive  nerves,  but  it  is 
a  part  of  the  situation. 

When  we  consider  the  nature  of  the  changes 
that  have  been  made  in  the  last  few  years,  and 
the  magnitude  of  those  which  are  proposed,  we 
do  not  wonder  at  the  tone  of  exasperation  which 
is  common  to  all  parties. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  constitutional  change,  like 
that  which  deprived  the  House  of  Lords  of  pow 
ers  exercised  for  a  thousand  years,  has  been  made 
without  an  appeal  to  arms.  But  there  was  no  civil 
war.  Perhaps  the  old  fashion  of  sturdy  blows 
would  have  been  less  trying  to  the  temper. 

A  revolution  is  at  the  best  an  unmannerly  pro 
ceeding.  It  cannot  be  carried  on  politely,  because 
it  involves  not  so  much  a  change  of  ideas  and 
methods  as  a  change  of  masters.  A  change  of 
ideas  may  be  discussed  in  an  amiable  and  orderly 
way.  The  honorable  gentlemen  who  have  the 


OF  EUROPE  105 

responsibility  for  the  decision  are  respectfully 
asked  to  revise  their  opinions  in  the  light  of  new 
evidence  which,  by  their  leave,  will  be  presented. 

But  a  change  of  masters  cannot  be  managed  so 
inoffensively.  The  honorable  gentlemen  are  not 
asked  to  revise  their  opinions.  They  are  told  that 
their  opinions  are  no  longer  important.  The  mat 
ter  is  severely  personal.  The  statement  is  not, 
"  We  do  not  believe  in  your  ideas  " ;  it  is,  "  We 
do  not  believe  in  you" 

When  political  discussion  takes  this  turn,  then 
there  is  an  end  to  the  amenities  suited  to  a  more 
quiet  time.  It  is  no  longer  a  question  as  to  which 
is  the  better  cause,  but  as  to  which  is  the  better 
man. 

Mr.  Asquith,  who  has  retained  in  this  revolu 
tionary  period  the  manners  of  the  old  school,  re 
cently  said  in  his  reply  to  a  delegation  of  his 
opponents,  "  When  people  are  on  opposite  sides 
of  a  chasm  they  may  be  courteous  to  one  another, 
and  regret  the  impossibility  of  their  shaking 
hands,  or  doing  more  than  wave  a  courteous 
gesture  across  so  wide  a  space." 

These  are  the  words  of  a  gentleman  in  politics, 
and  express  a  beautiful  ideal.  But  they  hardly 


io6   THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

describe  the  present  situation.  As  to  waving  a 
courteous  salutation  to  the  people  on  the  other 
side,  —  that  depends  on  who  the  people  are.  If 
you  know  them  and  have  been  long  familiar  with 
their  good  qualities,  the  courteous  salutation  is 
natural.  They  are,  as  you  know,  much  better 
than  their  opinions. 

But  it  is  different  when  they  are  people  whom 
you  do  not  know,  and  with  whom  you  have  no 
thing  in  common.  You  suspect  their  motives, 
and  feel  a  contempt  for  their  abilities.  They  are 
not  of  your  set.  The  word  "  gentleman "  is  de 
rived  from  the  word  gens.  People  of  the  same 
gens  learn  to  treat  each  other  in  a  considerate 
way.  Even  when  they  differ  they  remember  what 
is  due  to  gentle  blood  and  gentle  training. 

It  is  quite  evident  that  the  challenge  of  the  new 
democracy  to  the  old  ruling  classes  has  every 
where  produced  exasperation.  It  is  no  longer  easy 
to  wave  courteous  salutations  across  the  chasms 
which  divide  parties.  Political  discussion  takes  a 
rude  turn.  It  is  no  longer  possible  to  preserve  the 
proprieties.  We  may  expect  the  minor  morali 
ties  to  suffer  while  the  major  moralities  are  being 
determined  by  hard  knocks. 


OF   EUROPE  107 

Good  manners  depend  on  the  tacit  understand 
ing  of  all  parties  as  to  their  relations  to  one  an 
other.  Nothing  can  be  more  brutal  than  for  one 
to  claim  superiority,  or  more  rude  than  for  an 
other  to  dispute  the  claim.  Such  differences  of 
station  should,  if  they  exist,  be  taken  for  granted. 

Relations  which  were  established  by  force  may, 
after  a  time,  be  made  so  beautiful  that  their  origin 
is  forgotten.  There  must  be  no  display  of  unnec 
essary  force.  The  battle  having  been  decided,  vic 
tor  and  vanquished  change  parts.  It  pleases  the 
conqueror  to  sign  himself,  "Your  obedient  serv 
ant,"  and  to  inquire  whether  certain  terms  would 
be  agreeable.  Of  course  they  would  be  agreeable. 
So  says  the  disarmed  man  looking  upward  to  his 
late  foe,  now  become  his  protector. 

And  the  conqueror  with  grave  good  will  takes 
up  the  burden  which  Providence  has  imposed 
upon  him.  Is  not  the  motto  of  the  true  knight, 
Icb  dien  ?  Such  service  as  he  can  render  shall  be 
given  ungrudgingly. 

Now,  this  is  not  hypocrisy.  It  may  be  Christ 
ianity  and  Chivalry  and  all  sorts  of  fine  things. 
It  is  making  the  best  of  an  accepted  situation. 
When  relations  which  were  established  by  force 


io8   THE  UNACCUSTOMED  EARS 

have  been  sanctioned  by  custom,  and  embodied 
in  law,  and  sanctified  by  religion,  they  form  a  soil 
in  which  many  pleasant  things  may  grow.  In  the 
vicinity  of  Vesuvius  they  will  tell  you  that  the 
best  soils  are  of  volcanic  origin. 

Hodge  and  Sir  Lionel  meet  in  the  garden  which 
one  owns,  and  in  which  the  other  digs  with  the 
sweat  of  his  brow.  There  is  kindly  interest  on  the 
one  hand,  and  decent  respect  on  the  other.  But 
all  this  sense  of  ordered  righteousness  is  depend 
ent  on  one  condition.  Neither  must  eat  of  the 
fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  that  grows  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden.  A  little  knowledge  is  dan 
gerous,  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  may  be  even 
more  dangerous,  to  the  relations  which  custom 
has  established. 

What  right  has  Sir  Lionel  to  lay  down  the  law 
for  Hodge  ?  Why  should  not  Hodge  have  a  right 
to  have  his  point  of  view  considered?  When 
Hodge  begins  seriously  to  ponder  this  question 
his  manners  suffer.  And  when  Sir  Lionel  begins 
to  assert  his  superiority,  instead  of  taking  it  for 
granted,  his  behavior  lacks  its  easy  charm.  It  is 
very  hard  to  explain  such  things  in  a  gentlemanly 
way. 


OF  EUROPE  109 

Now,  the  exasperation  in  the  tone  of  political 
discussion  in  Great  Britain,  as  elsewhere  in  the 
world,  is  largely  explained  by  the  fact  that  all 
sorts  of  superiorities  have  been  challenged  at 
the  same  time.  Everywhere  the  issue  is  sharply 
made.  "  Who  shall  rule  ? " 

Shall  Ireland  any  longer  submit  to  be  ruled  by 
the  English  ?  The  Irish  Nationalists  swear  by  all 
the  saints  that,  rather  than  submit,  they  will  over 
throw  the  present  Government  and  return  to  their 
former  methods  of  agitation. 

If  the  Home  Rule  Bill  be  enacted  into  law, 
will  Ulster  submit  to  be  ruled  by  a  Catholic  ma 
jority?  The  men  of  Ulster  call  upon  the  spirits 
of  their  heroic  sires,  who  triumphed  at  the  Boyne, 
to  bear  witness  that  they  will  never  yield. 

Will  the  masses  of  the  people  submit  any 
longer  to  the  existing  inequalities  in  political 
representation?  No!  They  demand  immediate 
recognition  of  the  principle,  "One  man,  one 
vote,"  The  many  will  not  allow  the  few  to  make 
laws  for  them. 

Will  the  women  of  England  kindly  wait  a 
little  till  their  demands  can  be  considered  in 
a  dignified  way?  No!  They  will  not  take  their 


no   THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

place  in  the  waiting-line.   Others  get  what  they 
want  by  pushing;  so  will  they. 

Will  the  Labor  party  be  a  little  less  noisy  and 
insistent  in  its  demands'?  All  will  come  in  time, 
but  one  Reform  must  say  to  another,  "  After  you." 
Hoarse  voices  cry,  "We  care  nothing  for  eti 
quette,  we  must  have  what  we  demand,  and  have 
it  at  once.  We  cannot  stand  still.  If  we  are  push 
ing,  we  are  also  pushed  from  behind.  If  you  do 
not  give  us  what  we  ask  for,  the  Socialists  and  the 
Syndicalists  will  be  upon  you."  There  is  always 
the  threat  of  a  General  Strike.  Laborers  have 
hitherto  been  starved  into  submission.  But  two 
can  play  at  that  game. 

IV 

This  is  not  the  England  of  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  with  its  cheerful  contentment  with  the 
actual,  and  its  deference  for  all  sorts  of  dignitaries. 
It  is  not,  in  its  present  temper,  a  model  of  propri 
ety.  But,  in  my  judgment,  it  is  all  the  more  in 
teresting,  and  full  of  hope.  To  say  that  England 
is  in  the  midst  of  a  revolution  is  not  to  say  that 
some  dreadful  disaster  is  impending.  It  only 
means  that  this  is  a  time  when  events  move  very 


OF   EUROPE  in 

rapidly,  and  when  precedents  count  for  little.  But 
it  is  a  time  when  common  sense  and  courage  and 
energy  count  for  a  great  deal ;  and  there  is  no  evi 
dence  that  these  qualities  are  lacking.  I  suspect 
that  the  alarmists  are  not  so  alarmed  as  their  lan 
guage  would  lead  us  to  suppose.  They  know  their 
countrymen,  and  that  they  have  the  good  sense 
to  avoid  most  of  the  collisions  that  they  declare 
to  be  inevitable. 

I  take  comfort  in  the  philosophy  which  I  glean 
from  the  top  of  a  London  motor-bus.  From  my 
point  of  vantage  I  look  down  upon  pedestrian 
humanity  as  a  Superman  might  look  down  upon 
it.  It  seems  to  consist  of  a  vast  multitude  of  ig 
norant  folk  who  are  predestined  to  immediate  an 
nihilation.  As  the  ungainly  machine  on  which  I 
am  seated  rushes  down  the  street,  it  seems  admir 
ably  adapted  for  its  mission  of  destruction.  The 
barricade  in  front  of  me,  devoted  to  the  praise  of 
BOVRIL,  is  just  high  enough  to  prevent  my  see 
ing  what  actually  happens,  but  it  gives  a  blood 
curdling  view  of  catastrophes  that  are  imminent. 
I  have  an  impression  of  a  procession  of  innocent 
victims  rushing  heedlessly  upon  destruction. 
Three  yards  in  front  of  the  onrushing  wheels  is 


ii2    THE   UNACCUSTOMED   EARS 

an  old  gentleman  crossing  the  street.  He  suddenly 
stops.  There  is,  humanly  speaking,  no  hope  for 
him.  Two  nursemaids  appear  in  the  field  of  dan 
ger.  A  butcher's  boy  on  a  bicycle  steers  directly 
for  the  bus.  He  may  be  given  up  for  lost.  I  am 
not  able  to  see  what  becomes  of  them,  but  I  am 
prepared  for  the  worst.  Still  the  expected  crunch 
does  not  come,  and  the  bus  goes  on. 

Between  Netting  Hill  Gate  and  Charing  Cross 
I  have  seen  eighteen  persons  disappear  in  this 
mysterious  fashion.  I  could  swear  that  when  I  last 
saw  them  it  seemed  too  late  for  them  to  escape 
their  doom. 

But  on  sober  reflection  I  come  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  I  should  have  taken  a  more  hopeful  view 
if  I  had  not  been  so  high  up ;  if,  for  example,  I 
had  been  sitting  with  the  driver  where  I  could 
have  seen  what  happened  at  the  last  moment. 

There  was  much  comfort  in  the  old  couplet :  — 

"  Betwixt  the  saddle  and  the  ground, 
He  mercy  sought  and  mercy  found." 

And  betwixt  the  pedestrian  and  the  motor-bus, 
there  are  many  chances  of  safety  that  I  could  not 
foresee.  The  old  gentleman  was  perhaps  more 
spry  than  he  looked.  The  nursemaids  and  the 


OF  EUROPE  113 

butcher's  boy  must  assuredly  have  perished  un 
less  they  happened  to  have  their  wits  about  them. 
But  in  all  probability  they  did  have  their  wits 
about  them,  and  so  did  the  driver  of  the  motor- 
bus. 


THE   TORYISM   OF   TRAVELERS 


WHEN  we  think  of  a  thorough-going  con 
servative  we  are  likely  to  picture  him  as  a 
stay-at-home  person,  a  barnacle  fastened  to  one 
spot.  We  take  for  granted  that  aversion  to  loco 
motion  and  aversion  to  change  are  the  same  thing. 
But  in  thinking  thus,  we  leave  out  of  account  the 
inherent  instability  of  human  nature.  Everybody 
likes  a  little  change  now  and  then.  If  a  person 
cannot  get  it  in  one  way,  he  gets  it  in  another. 
The  stay-at-home  gratifies  his  wandering  fancy  by 
making  little  alterations  in  his  too-familiar  sur 
roundings.  Even  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  in  the 
days  of  his  placid  prosperity  would  occasionally 
migrate  from  the  blue  bed  to  the  brown.  A  life 
that  had  such  vicissitudes  could  not  be  called  un 
eventful. 

When  you  read  the  weekly  newspaper  pub 
lished  in  the  quietest  hill-town  in  Vermont,  you 
become  aware  that  a  great  deal  is  going  on.  Dea- 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   115 

con  Pratt  shingled  his  bam  last  week.  Miss  Maria 
Jones  had  new  shutters  put  on  her  house,  and  it 
is  a  great  improvement.  These  revolutions  in 
Goshenville  are  matters  of  keen  interest  to  those 
concerned.  They  furnish  inexhaustible  material 
for  conversation. 

The  true  enemy  to  innovation  is  the  traveler 
who  sets  out  to  see  historic  lands.  His  natural 
love  of  change  is  satiated  by  rapid  change  of  lo 
cality.  But  his  natural  conservatism  asserts  itself 
in  his  insistence  that  the  places  which  he  visits 
shall  be  true  to  their  own  reputations.  Having 
journeyed,  at  considerable  expense,  to  a  celebrated 
spot,  he  wants  to  see  the  thing  it  was  celebrated 
for,  and  he  will  accept  no  substitute.  From  his 
point  of  view  the  present  inhabitants  are  merely 
caretakers  who  should  not  be  allowed  to  disturb 
the  remains  intrusted  to  their  custody.  Every 
thing  must  be  kept  as  it  used  to  be. 

The  moment  any  one  packs  his  trunk  and  puts 
money  in  his  purse  to  visit  lands  old  in  story  he 
becomes  a  hopeless  reactionary.  He  is  sallying 
forth  to  see  things  not  as  they  are,  but  as  they 
were  "  once  upon  a  time."  He  is  attracted  to  cer 
tain  localities  by  something  which  happened  long 


n6  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

ago.  A  great  many  things  may  have  happened 
since,  but  these  must  be  put  out  of  the  way.  One 
period  of  time  must  be  preserved  to  satisfy  his 
romantic  imagination.  He  loves  the  good  old 
ways,  and  he  has  a  curiosity  to  see  the  bad  old  ways 
that  may  still  be  preserved.  It  is  only  the  modern 
that  offends  him. 

The  American  who,  in  his  own  country,  is  in 
feverish  haste  to  improve  conditions,  when  he  sets 
foot  in  Europe  becomes  the  fanatical  foe  to  pro 
gress.  The  Old  World,  in  his  judgment,  ought  to 
look  old.  He  longs  to  hear  the  clatter  of  wooden 
shoes.  If  he  had  his  way  he  would  have  laws 
enacted  forbidding  peasant  folk  to  change  their 
ancient  costumes.  He  would  preserve  every  relic 
of  feudalism.  He  bitterly  laments  the  division  of 
great  estates.  A  nobleman's  park  with  its  beauti 
ful  idle  acres,  its  deer,  its  pheasants,  and  its  scur 
rying  rabbits,  is  so  much  more  pleasant  to  look  at 
than  a  succession  of  market-gardens.  Poachers, 
game-keepers,  and  squires  are  alike  interesting, 
if  only  they  would  dress  so  that  he  could  know 
them  apart.  He  is  enchanted  with  thatched  cot 
tages  which  look  damp  and  picturesque.  He  de 
tests  the  model  dwellings  which  are  built  with  a 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS    117 

too-obvious  regard  for  sanitation.  He  seeks  nar 
row  and  ill-smelling  streets  where  the  houses  nod 
at  each  other,  as  if  in  the  last  stages  of  senility, 
muttering  mysterious  reminiscences  of  old  trag 
edies.  He  frequents  scenes  of  ancient  murders, 
and  places  where  bandits  once  did  congregate. 
He  leaves  the  railway  carriage,  to  cross  a  heath 
where  romantic  highwaymen  used  to  ask  the  trav 
eler  to  stand  and  deliver.  He  is  indignant  to  find 
electric  lights  and  policemen.  A  heath  ought  to 
be  lonely,  and  fens  ought  to  be  preserved  from 
drainage. 

He  seeks  dungeons  and  instruments  of  torture. 
The  dungeons  must  be  underground,  and  only  a 
single  ray  of  light  must  penetrate.  He  is  much 
troubled  to  find  that  the  dungeon  in  the  Castle 
of  Chillon  is  much  more  cheerful  than  he  had 
supposed  it  was.  The  Bridge  of  Sighs  in  Venice 
disappoints  him  in  the  same  way.  Indeed,  there 
are  few  places  mentioned  by  Lord  Byron  that 
are  as  gloomy  as  they  are  in  the  poetical  descrip 
tion. 

The  traveler  is  very  insistent  in  his  plea  for  the 
preservation  of  battlefields.  Now,  Europe  is  very 
rich  in  battlefields,  many  of  the  most  fertile  sec- 


n8  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

tions  having  been  fought  over  many  times.  But 
the  ravages  of  agriculture  are  everywhere  seen. 
There  is  no  such  leveler  as  the  ploughman.  Often 
when  one  has  come  to  refresh  his  mind  with  the 
events  of  one  terrible  day,  he  finds  that  there  is 
nothing  whatever  to  remind  him  of  what  hap 
pened.  For  centuries  there  has  been  ploughing 
and  harvesting.  Nature  takes  so  kindly  to  these 
peaceful  pursuits  that  one  is  tempted  to  think  of 
the  battle  as  merely  an  episode. 

Commerce  is  almost  as  destructive.  Cities  that 
have  been  noted  for  their  sieges  often  turn  out  to 
be  surprisingly  prosperous.  The  old  walls  are 
torn  down  to  give  way  to  parks  and  boulevards. 
Massacres  which  in  their  day  were  noted  leave  no 
trace  behind.  One  can  get  more  of  an  idea  of  the 
Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve  by  reading  a 
book  by  one's  fireside  than  by  going  to  Paris. 
For  all  one  can  see  there,  there  might  have  been 
no  such  accident. 

Moral  considerations  have  little  place  in  the 
traveler's  mind.  The  progressive  ameliorations 
that  have  taken  place  tend  to  obscure  our  sense 
of  the  old  conflicts.  A  reform  once  accomplished 
becomes  a  part  of  our  ordinary  consciousness.  We 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   119 

take  it  for  granted,  and  find  it  hard  to  understand 
what  the  reformer  was  so  excited  about. 
^.t     As  a  consequence,  the  chief  object  of  an  his- 
itorical  pilgrimage  is  to  discover  some  place  where 
the  old  conditions  have  not  been  improved  away. 
The  religious  pilgrim  does  not  expect  to  find  the 
old  prophets,  but  he  has  a  pious  hope  of  finding 
the  abuses  which  the  prophets  denounced. 

I  have  in  mind  a  clergyman  who,  in  his  own 
home,  is  progressive  to  a  fault.  He  is  impatient  of 
any  delay.  He  is  all  the  time  seeking  out  the  very 
latest  inventions  in  social  and  economic  reforms. 
But  several  years  ago  he  made  a  journey  to  the 
Holy  Land,  and  when  he  came  back  he  delivered 
a  lecture  on  his  experiences.  A  more  reactionary 
attitude  could  not  be  imagined.  Not  a  word  did 
he  say  about  the  progress  of  education  or  civil- 
service  reform  in  Palestine.  There  was  not  a  sym 
pathetic  reference  to  sanitation  or  good  roads.  The 
rights  of  women  were  not  mentioned.  Represen 
tative  government  seemed  to  be  an  abomination 
to  him.  All  his  enthusiasm  was  for  the  other  side. 
He  was  for  Oriental  conservatism  in  all  its  forms. 
He  was  for  preserving  every  survival  of  ancient 
custom.  He  told  of  the  delight  with  which  he 


120  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

watched  the  laborious  efforts  of  the  peasants 
ploughing  with  a  forked  stick.  He  believed  that 
there  had  not  been  a  single  improvement  in  agri 
culture  since  the  days  of  Abraham. 

The  economic  condition  of  the  people  had  not 
changed  for  the  better  since  patriarchal  times,  and 
one  could  still  have  a  good  idea  of  a  famine  such 
as  sent  the  brothers  of  Joseph  down  into  Egypt. 
Turkish  misgovernment  furnished  him  with  a 
much  clearer  idea  of  the  publicans,  and  the  hatred 
they  aroused  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  than  he 
had  ever  hoped  to  obtain.  In  fact,  one  could 
hardly  appreciate  the  term  "  publicans  and  sin 
ners"  without  seeing  the  Oriental  tax-gatherers. 
He  was  very  fortunate  in  being  able  to  visit  sev 
eral  villages  which  had  been  impoverished  by 
their  exactions.  The  rate  of  wages  throws  much 
light  on  the  Sunday-School  lessons.  A  penny  a 
day  does  not  seem  such  an  insufficient  minimum 
wage  to  a  traveler,  as  it  does  to  a  stay-at-home  per 
son.  On  going  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho 
he  fell  among  thieves,  or  at  least  among  a  group 
of  thievish-looking  Bedouins  who  gave  him  a  new 
appreciation  of  the  parable  of  the  Samaritan.  It 
was  a  wonderful  experience.  And  he  found  that 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   121 

the  animosity  between  the  Jews  and  the  Samari 
tans  had  not  abated.  To  be  sure,  there  are  very 
few  Samaritans  left,  and  those  few  are  thoroughly 
despised. 

The  good-roads  movement  has  not  yet  invaded 
Palestine,  and  we  can  still  experience  all  the  dis 
comforts  of  the  earlier  times.  Many  a  time  when 
he  took  his  life  in  his  hands  and  wandered  across 
the  Judaean  hills,  my  friend  repeated  to  himself  the 
text,  "  In  the  days  of  Shamgar  the  son  of  Anath, 
in  the  days  of  Jael,  the  highways  were  unoccupied, 
and  the  people  walked  through  by-ways." 

To  most  people  Shamgar  is  a  mere  name.  But 
after  you  have  walked  for  hours  over  those  rocky 
by-ways,  never  knowing  at  what  moment  you 
may  be  attacked  by  a  treacherous  robber,  you 
know  how  Shamgar  felt.  He  becomes  a  real  per 
son.  You  are  carried  back  into  the  days  when 
"there  was  no  king  in  Israel,  but  every  man  did 
that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes." 

The  railway  between  Joppa  and  Jerusalem  is 
to  be  regretted,  but  fortunately  it  is  a  small  affair. 
There  are  rumors  of  commercial  enterprises  which, 
if  successful,  would  change  the  appearance  of 
many  of  the  towns.  Fortunately  they  are  not 


122  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

likely  to  be  successful,  at  least  in  our  day.  The 
brooding  spirit  of  the  East  can  be  trusted  to  de 
fend  itself  against  the  innovating  West.  For  the 
present,  at  least,  Palestine  is  a  fascinating  coun 
try  to  travel  in. 

A  traveler  in  Ceylon  and  India  writes  to  a  re 
ligious  paper  of  his  journey.  He  says,  "  Colombo 
has  little  to  interest  the  tourist,  yet  it  is  a  fine 
city."  One  who  reads  between  the  lines  under 
stands  that  the  fact  that  it  is  a  fine  city  is  the 
cause  of  its  uninterestingness.  His  impression  of 
Madura  was  more  satisfactory.  There  one  can  see 
the  Juggernaut  car  drawn  through  the  streets  by 
a  thousand  men,  though  it  is  reluctantly  admit 
ted  that  the  self-immolation  of  fanatics  under  the 
wheels  is  no  longer  allowed.  "The  Shiva  temple 
at  Madura  is  the  more  interesting  as  its  towers 
are  ornamented  with  six  thousand  idols." 

The  writer  who  rejoiced  at  the  sight  of  six 
thousand  idols  in  Madura,  would  have  been 
shocked  at  the  exhibition  of  a  single  crucifix  in  his 
meeting-house  at  home. 

I  confess  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  over 
come  the  Tory  prejudice  in  favor  of  vested  in 
terests  in  historical  places.  If  one  has  traveled  to 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   123 

see  "  the  old  paths  which  wicked  men  have  trod 
den,"  it  is  a  disappointment  to  find  that  they  are 
not  there.  I  had  such  an  experience  in  Capri. 
We  had  wandered  through  the  vineyards  and  up 
the  steep,  rocky  way  to  the  Villa  of  Tiberius.  On 
the  top  of  the  cliff  are  the  ruins  of  the  pleasure- 
house  which  the  Emperor  in  his  wicked  old  age 
built  for  himself.  Was  there  ever  a  greater  con 
trast  between  an  earthly  paradise  and  abounding 
sinfulness?  Here,  indeed,  was  "spiritual  wicked 
ness  in  high  places."  The  marvelously  blue  sea 
and  all  the  glories  of  the  Bay  of  Naples  ought  to 
have  made  Tiberius  a  better  man;  but  apparently 
they  didn't.  We  were  prepared  for  the  thrilling 
moment  when  we  were  led  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
and  told  to  look  down.  Here  was  the  very  place 
where  Tiberius  amused  himself  by  throwing  his 
slaves  into  the  sea  to  feed  the  fishes.  Cruel  old 
monster!  But  it  was  a  long  time  ago.  Time  had 
marvelously  softened  the  atrocity  of  the  act,  and 
heightened  its  picturesque  character.  If  Tiberius 
must  exhibit  his  colossal  inhumanity,  could  he 
have  anywhere  in  all  the  world  chosen  a  better 
spot  ?  Just  think  of  his  coming  to  this  island 
and,  on  this  high  cliff  above  the  azure  sea,  build- 


124  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

ing  this  palace !  And  then  to  think  of  him  on  a 
night  when  the  moon  was  full,  and  the  nightin 
gales  were  singing,  coming  out  and  hurling  a 
shuddering  slave  into  the  abyss ! 

When  we  returned  to  the  hotel,  our  friend  the 
Professor,  who  had  made  a  study  of  the  subject, 
informed  us  that  it  was  all  a  mistake.  The  sto 
ries  of  the  wicked  doings  of  Tiberius  in  Capri 
were  malicious  slanders.  The  Emperor  was  an 
elderly  invalid  living  in  dignified  retirement.  As 
for  the  slaves,  we  might  set  our  minds  at  rest  in 
regard  to  them.  If  any  of  them  fell  over  the  cliff 
it  was  pure  accident.  We  must  give  up  the  idea 
that  the  invalid  Emperor  pushed  them  off. 

All  this  was  reassuring  to  my  better  nature,  and 
yet  I  cherished  a  grudge  against  the  Professor. 
For  it  was  a  stiff  climb  to  the  Villa  of  Tiberius, 
and  I  wanted  something  to  show  for  it.  It  was 
difficult  to  adjust  one's  mind  to  the  fact  that 
nothing  had  happened  there  which  might  not 
have  happened  in  any  well-conducted  country 
house. 

I  like  to  contrast  this  with  our  experience  in 
Algiers.  We  knew  beforehand  what  Algiers  was 
like  in  the  days  of  its  prime.  It  had  been  the  nest 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   125 

of  as  desperate  pirates  as  ever  infested  the  seas. 
For  generations  innocent  Christians  had  been  car 
ried  hither  to  pine  in  doleful  captivity.  But  the 
French,  we  understood,  had  built  a  miniature 
Paris  in  the  vicinity  and  were  practicing  liberty, 
fraternity,  and  equality  on  the  spot  dedicated  to 
gloomily  romantic  memories.  We  feared  the 
effect  of  this  civilization.  We  had  our  misgiv 
ings.  Perhaps  Algiers  might  be  no  longer  worth 
visiting. 

Luckily  our  steamer  was  delayed  till,  sunset. 
We  were  carefully  shepherded,  so  that  we  hardly 
noticed  the  French  city.  We  were  hurried  through 
the  darkness  into  old  Algiers.  Everything  was 
full  of  sinister  suggestion.  The  streets  were  as 
narrow  and  perilous  as  any  which  Haroun  Al 
Raschid  explored  on  his  more  perilous  nights. 
Here  one  could  believe  the  worst  of  his  fellow 
men.  Suspicion  and  revenge  were  in  the  air.  We 
were  not  taking  a  stroll,  we  were  escaping  from 
something.  Mysterious  muffled  figures  glided  by 
and  disappeared  through  slits  in  the  walls.  There 
were  dark  comers  so  suggestive  of  homicide  that 
one  could  hardly  think  that  any  one  with  an 
Oriental  disposition  could  resist  the  temptation.  In 


126   THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

crypt-like  recesses  we  could  see  assassins  sharpen 
ing  their  daggers  or,  perhaps,  executioners  putting 
the  finishing  touches  on  their  scimitars.  There 
were  cavernous  rooms  where  conspirators  were 
crouched  round  a  tiny  charcoal  fire.  Groups  of 
truculent  young  Arabs  followed  us  shouting  ob 
jurgations,  and  accepting  small  coins  as  ransom. 
We  had  glimpses  of  a  mosque,  the  outside  of  a 
prison,  and  the  inside  of  what  once  was  a  harem. 
On  returning  to  the  steamer  one  gentleman  fell 
overboard  and,  swimming  to  the  shore,  was  res 
cued  by  a  swarthy  ruffian  who  robbed  him  of  his 
watch  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  When 
the  victim  of  Algerian  piracy  stood  on  the  deck, 
dripping  and  indignant,  and  told  his  tale  of 
woe,  we  were  delighted.  Algiers  would  always  be 
something  to  remember.  It  was  one  of  the  places 
that  had  not  been  spoiled. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  sunlight  might  have 
brought  disillusion.  Some  of  the  stealthy  figures 
which  gave  rise  to  such  thrilling  suspicions  may 
have  turned  out  to  be  excellent  fathers  and  hus 
bands  returning  from  business.  As  it  is,  thanks 
to  the  darkness,  Algiers  remains  a  city  of  vague 
atrocities.  It  does  not  belong  to  the  common- 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   127 

place  world ;  it  is  of  such  stuff  as  dreams,  includ 
ing  nightmares,  are  made  of. 

It  is  not  without  some  compunction  of  con 
science  that  I  recall  two  historical  pilgrimages, 
one  to  Assisi,  the  other  to  Geneva.  Assisi  I  found 
altogether  rewarding,  while  in  Geneva  I  was  dis 
appointed.  In  each  case  my  object  was  purely 
selfish,  and  had  nothing  in  common  with  the 
welfare  of  the  present  inhabitants.  I  wanted  to 
see  the  city  of  St.  Francis  and  the  city  of  John 
Calvin. 

In  Assisi  one  may  read  again  the  Franciscan 
legends  in  their  proper  settings.  I  should  like  to 
think  that  my  pleasure  in  Assisi  arose  from  the 
fact  that  I  saw  some  one  there  who  reminded  me 
of  St.  Francis.  But  I  was  not  so  fortunate.  If  one 
is  anxious  to  come  in  contact  with  the  spirit  of 
St.  Francis,  freed  from  its  mediaeval  limitations, 
a  visit  to  Hull  House,  Chicago,  would  be  more 
rewarding. 

But  it  was  not  the  spirit  of  St.  Francis,  but  his 
limitations,  that  we  were  after.  Assisi  has  pre 
served  them  all.  We  see  the  gray  old  town  on 
the  hillside,  the  narrow  streets,  the  old  walls. 
We  are  beset  by  swarms  of  beggars.  They  are 


128   THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

not  like  the  half-starved  creatures  one  may  see  in 
the  slums  of  northern  cities.  They  are  very  lik 
able.  They  are  natural  worshipers  of  my  Lady 
Poverty.  They  have  not  been  spoiled  by  com 
monplace  industrialism  or  scientific  philanthropy. 
One  is  taken  back  into  the  days  when  there  was 
a  natural  affinity  between  saints  and  beggars. 
The  saints  would  joyously  give  away  all  that 
they  had,  and  the  beggars  would  as  joyously 
accept  it.  After  the  beggars  had  used  up  all  the 
saints  had  given  them,  the  saints  would  go  out 
and  beg  for  more.  The  community,  you  say, 
would  be  none  the  better.  Perhaps  not.  But  the 
moment  you  begin  to  talk  about  the  community 
you  introduce  ideas  that  are  modern  and  disturb 
ing.  One  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is  that  if  Assist 
were  more  thrifty,  it  would  be  less  illuminating 
historically. 

St.  Francis  might  come  back  to  Assisi  and  take 
up  his  work  as  he  left  it.  But  I  sought  in  vain 
for  John  Calvin  in  Geneva.  The  city  was  too 
prosperous  and  gay.  The  cheerful  houses,  the 
streets  with  their  cosmopolitan  crowds,  the  parks, 
the  schools,  the  university,  the  little  boats  skim 
ming  over  the  lake,  all  bore  witness  to  the  well- 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   129 

being  of  to-day.  But  what  of  yesterday?  The 
citizens  were  celebrating  the  anniversary  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau.  I  realized  that  it  was  not 
yesterday  but  the  day  before  yesterday  that  I  was 
seeking.  Where  was  the  stern  little  city  which 
Calvin  taught  and  ruled  *?  The  place  that  knew 
him  knows  him  no  more. 

Disappointed  in  my  search  for  Calvin,  I  sought 
compensation  in  Servetus.  I  found  the  stone 
placed  by  modem  Calvinists  to  mark  the  spot 
where  the  Spanish  heretic  was  burned.  On  it  they 
had  carved  an  inscription  expressing  their  regret 
for  the  act  of  intolerance  on  the  part  of  the  re 
former,  and  attributing  the  blame  to  the  age  in 
which  he  lived.  But  even  this  did  not  satisfy 
modern  Geneva.  The  inscription  had  been 
chipped  away  in  order  to  give  place  I  was  told, 
to  something  more  historically  accurate. 

But  whether  Calvin  was  to  blame,  or  the  six 
teenth  century,  did  not  seem  to  matter.  The  spot 
was  so  beautiful  that  it  seemed  impossible  that 
anything  tragical  could  ever  have  happened 
here.  A  youth  and  maiden  were  sitting  by  the 
stone,  engaged  in  a  most  absorbing  conversation. 
Of  one  thing  I  was  certain,  that  the  theological 


1 30  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

differences  between  Calvin  and  Servetus  were 
nothing  to  them.  They  had  something  more  im 
portant  to  think  about  —  at  least  for  them. 

II 

After  a  time  one  comes  to  have  a  certain  mod 
esty  of  expectation.  Time  and  Space  are  different 
elements,  and  each  has  its  own  laws.  At  the  price 
of  a  steamship  ticket  one  may  be  transported  to 
another  country,  but  safe  passage  to  another  age 
s(  is  not  guaranteed.  It  is  enough  if  some  slight 
suggestion  is  given  to  the  imagination.  A  walk 
through  a  pleasant  neighborhood  is  all  the  pleas- 
anter  if  one  knows  that  something  memorable 
has  happened  there.  If  one  is  wise  he  will  not 
attempt  to  realize  it  to  the  exclusion  of  the  pres 
ent  scene.  It  is  enough  to  have  a  slight  flavor  of 
historicity. 

/It  was  this  pleasure  which  I  enjoyed  in  a  ram 
ble  with  a  friend  through  the  New  Forest.  The 
day  was  fine,  and  it  would  have  been  a  joy  to 
be  under  the  greenwood  trees  if  no  one  had  been 
before  us.  But  the  New  Forest  had  a  human  in 
terest;  for  on  such  a  day  as  this,  William  Rufus 
rode  into  it  to  hunt  the  red  deer,  and  was  found 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   131 

with  an  arrow  through  his  body.  And  to  this  day 
no  man  knows  who  killed  William  Rufus,  or 
why.  Though,  of  course,  some  people  have  their 
suspicions. 

Many  other  things  may  have  happened  in  the 
New  Forest  in  the  centuries  that  have  passed,  but 
they  have  never  been  brought  vividly  to  my  at 
tention.  So  far  as  I  was  concerned  there  were  no 
confusing  incidents.  The  Muse  of  History  told 
one  tragic  tale  and  then  was  silent. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Forest  was  the  Rufus 
stone  marking  the  spot  where  the  Red  King's 
body  was  found.  At  Brockenhurst  we  inquired 
the  way,  which  we  carefully  avoided.  The  road 
itself  was  an  innovation,  and  was  infested  with 
motor-cars,  machines  unknown  to  the  Normans. 
The  Red  King  had  plunged  into  the  Forest  and 
quickly  lost  himself;  so  would  we.  There  were 
great  oaks  and  wide-spreading  beeches  and  green 
glades  such  as  one  finds  only  in  England.  It  was 
pleasant  to  feel  that  it  all  belonged  to  the  Crown. 
I  could  not  imagine  a  county  council  allowing 
this  great  stretch  of  country  to  remain  in  its 
unspoiled  beauty  through  these  centuries. 

We  took  our  frugal  lunch  under  a  tree  that 


132  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

had  looked  down  on  many  generations.  Then 
we  wandered  on  through  a  green  wilderness. 
We  saw  no  one  but  some  women  gathering  fagots. 
I  was  glad  to  see  that  they  were  exercising  their 
ancestral  rights  in  the  royal  domain.  They  looked 
contented,  though  I  should  have  preferred  to 
have  their  dress  more  antique. 

All  day  we  followed  William  Rufus  through 
the  Forest.  I  began  to  feel  that  I  had  a  real  ac 
quaintance  with  him,  having  passed  through 
much  the  same  experience.  The  forest  glades 
have  been  little  changed  since  the  day  when  he 
hunted  the  red  deer.  Nature  is  the  true  conserva 
tive,  and  repeats  herself  incessantly. 

Toward  evening  my  friend  pointed  out  the 
hill  at  the  foot  of  which  was  the  Rufus  stone.  It 
was  still  some  two  miles  away.  Should  we  push 
on  to  it? 

What  should  we  see  when  we  got  there  *?  The 
stone  was  not  much.  There  was  a  railing  round 
it  as  a  protection  against  relic-hunters.  And 
there  was  an  inscription  which,  of  course,  was 
comparatively  modern.  That  settled  it.  We  would 
not  go  to  the  stone  with  its  modern  inscription. 
The  ancient  trees  brought  us  much  nearer  to 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   133 

William  Rufus.  Besides,  there  was  just  time,  if 
we  walked  briskly,  to  catch  the  train  at  Brocken- 
hurst. 


in 

A  week  which  stands  out  in  my  memory  as    \ 
one  of  perfect  communion  with  the  past  was  spent     i 
with  another  English  friend  in  Lianthony  Abbey, 
in  the  Vale  of  Ewyas,  in  the  Black  Mountains  of 
Wales.  We   had   gone  prepared   for   camping 
with  a  tent  of  ethereal  lightness,  which  was  to 
protect  us  from  the  weather. 

For  the  first  night  we  were  to  tarry  amid  the 
ruins  of  the  twelfth-century  abbey,  some  parts 
of  which  had  been  roofed  over  and  used  as  an 
inn.  When  we  arrived,  the  rain  was  falling  in 
torrents.  Soon  after  supper  we  took  our  candles 
and  climbed  the  winding  stone  stairs  to  our 
rooms  in  the  tower.  The  stones  were  uneven  and 
worn  by  generations  of  pious  feet.  Outside  we 
could  see  the  ruined  nave  of  the  church,  with  all 
the  surrounding  buildings.  We  were  in  another 
age. 

Had  the  sun  shined  next  morning  we  should 
have  gone  on  our  gypsy  journey,  and  Lianthony 


134  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

Abbey  would  have  been  only  an  incident.  But 
for  five  days  and  five  nights  the  rain  descended. 
W^e  could  make  valiant  sallies,  but  were  driven 
back  for  shelter.  Shut  in  by  "  the  tumultuous 
privacy  of  storm,"  one  felt  a  sense  of  ownership. 
Only  one  book  could  be  obtained,  the  <c  Life  and 
Letters  "  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.  I  had  always 
wanted  to  know  more  of  Landor  and  here  was  the 
opportunity. 

A  little  over  a  hundred  years  ago  he  came  to 
the  vale  of  Ewyas  and  bought  this  estate,  and 
hither  he  brought  his  young  bride.  They  occu 
pied  our  rooms,  it  appeared.  In  1809,  Landor 
writes  to  Southey,  "  I  am  about  to  do  what  no 
man  hath  ever  done  in  England,  plant  a  wood 
of  cedars  of  Lebanon.  These  trees  will  look  mag 
nificent  on  the  mountains  of  Llanthony."  He 
planted  a  million  of  them,  so  he  said.  How  elo 
quently  he  growled  over  those  trees !  He  pro 
phesied  that  none  of  them  would  live. 

After  reading,  I  donned  my  raincoat  and 
started  out  through  the  driving  storm  to  see 
how  Landor's  trees  were  getting  on.  It  seemed 
that  it  was  only  yesterday  that  they  were  planted. 
It  was  worth  going  out  to  see  what  had  be- 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS    135 

come  of  them.  They  were  all  gone.  I  felt  that 
secret  satisfaction  which  all  right-minded  persons 
feel  on  being  witnesses  to  the  fulfilment  of  pro 
phecy. 

And  then  there  was  the  house  which  Landor 
started  to  build  when  he  and  his  wife  were  living 
in  our  tower.  "  I  hope,"  he  writes,  "  before  the 
close  not  of  the  next  but  of  the  succeeding  sum 
mer,  to  have  one  room  to  sit  in  with  two  or  three 
bedrooms."  Then  he  begins  to  growl  about  the 
weather  and  the  carpenters.  After  a  while  he 
writes  again  of  the  house :  "  It 's  not  half  finished 
and  has  cost  me  two  thousand  pounds.  I  think 
seriously  of  filling  it  with  straw  and  setting  fire 
to  it.  Never  was  anything  half  so  ugly." 

I  inquired  about  the  house  and  was  told  that 
it  was  not  far  away  on  the  hillside,  and  was  yet 
unfinished.  I  was  pleased  with  this,  and  meant 
to  go  up  and  see  it  when  the  spell  of  bad  weather 
of  which  Landor  complained  had  passed  by. 

Beside  Landor  there  was  only  one  other  historic 
association  which  one  could  enjoy  without  getting 
drenched  —  that  was  St.  David.  In  wading  across 
the  barnyard,  I  encountered  "Boots,"  an  intelli 
gent  young  man  though  unduly  respectful.  He 


136  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

informed  me  that  the  old  building  just  across 
from  the  stable  was  the  cell  of  St.  David. 

I  was  not  prepared  for  this.  All  I  knew  was 
that  St.  David  was  the  patron  saint  of  Wales  and 
had  a  cathedral  and  a  number  of  other  churches 
dedicated  to  him.  Without  too  grossly  admit 
ting  my  ignorance,  I  tried  to  draw  out  from  my 
mentor  some  further  biographical  facts  that  my 
imagination  might  work  on  during  my  stay.  He 
thought  that  St.  David  was  some  relation  to  King 
Arthur,  but  just  what  the  relation  was,  and  whether 
he  was  only  a  relative  by  marriage,  he  did  n't 
know.  It  wasn't  very  much  information,  but  I 
was  profoundly  grateful  to  him. 

I  have  since  read  a  long  article  on  St.  David 
in  the  "  Cambrian  Plutarch."  The  author  goes 
into  the  question  of  the  family  relations  between 
King  Arthur  and  St.  David  with  great  thorough 
ness,  but  what  conclusion  he  comes  to  is  not 
quite  evident.  He  thinks  that  the  people  are 
wrong  who  say  that  St.  David  was  a  nephew,  be 
cause  he  was  fifty  years  older  than  Arthur.  That 
would  make  him  more  likely  his  uncle.  But  as 
he  admits  that  King  Arthur  may  possibly  be  an 
other  name  for  the  constellation  Ursa  Major,  it  is 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   137 

difficult  to  fix  the  dates  exactly.  At  any  rate,  the 
"  Cambrian  Plutarch  "  is  sure  that  King  Arthur 
was  a  Welshman  and  a  credit  to  the  country  — 
and  so  was  St.  David.  The  author  was  as  accurate 
in  regard  to  the  dates  as  the  nature  of  his  subject 
would  allow.  He  adds  apologetically,  "  It  will 
appear  that  the  life  of  St.  David  is  rather  mis 
placed  with  respect  to  chronological  order.  But 
as  he  was  contemporary  with  all  those  whose  lives 
have  already  been  given,  the  anachronism,  if  such 
it  may  be  called,  can  be  of  no  great  importance." 
That  is  just  the  way  I  feel  about  it.  After 
living  for  a  whole  week  in  such  close  contact 
with  the  residence  of  St.  David,  I  feel  a  real  inter 
est  in  him.  Just  who  he  was  and  when  he  lived, 
if  at  all,  is  a  matter  of  no  great  importance. 

Yet  there  are  limits  to  the  historical  imagina 
tion.  It  must  have  something  to  work  on,  even 
though  that  something  may  be  very  vague.  We 
must  draw  the  line  somewhere  in  our  pursuit  of 
antiquity.  A  relic  may  be  too  old  to  be  effective. 
Instead  of  gently  stimulating  the  imagination  it 
may  paralyze  it.  What  we  desire  is  not  merely 
the  ancient  but  the  familiar.  The  relic  must  bring 


138  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

with  it  the  sense  of  auld  lang-syne.  The  Tory 
squire  likes  to  preserve  what  has  been  a  long 
time  in  his  family.  The  traveler  has  the  same 
feeling  for  the  possessions  of  the  family  of  hu 
manity. 

The  family-feeling  does  not  go  back  of  a  cer 
tain  point.  I  draw  the  line  at  the  legendary 
period  when  the  heroes  have  names,  and  more  or 
less  coherent  stories  are  told  of  their  exploits. 
People  who  had  a  local  habitation,  but  not  a 
name,  seem  to  belong  to  Geology  only.  For  all 
their  flint  arrow-heads,  or  bronze  instruments,  I 
cannot  think  of  them  as  fellow  men. 

It  was  with  this  feeling  that  I  visited  one  of 
the  most  ancient  places  of  worship  in  Ireland, 
the  tumulus  at  Newgrange.  It  was  on  a  day  filled 
with  historic  sight-seeing.  We  started  from  Dro- 
gheda,  the  great  stronghold  of  the  Pale  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  the  scene  of  Cromwell's  ter 
rible  vengeance  in  1649.  Three  miles  up  the  river 
is  the  site  of  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne.  It  was  one 
of  the  great  indecisive  battles  of  the  world,  it 
being  necessary  to  fight  it  over  again  every  year. 
The  Boyne  had  overflowed  its  banks,  and  in  the 
fields  forlorn  hay-cocks  stood  like  so  many  little 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   139 

islands.  We  stopped  at  the  battle  monument  and 
read  its  Whiggish  inscription,  which  was  scorned 
by  our  honest  driver.  We  could  form  some  idea 
of  how  the  field  appeared  on  the  eventful  day 
when  King  William  and  King  James  confronted 
each  other  across  the  narrow  stream.  Then  the 
scene  changed  and  we  found  ourselves  in  Melle- 
font  Abbey,  the  first  Cistercian  monastery  in 
Ireland,  founded  by  St.  Malachy,  the  friend  of 
St.  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  King  William  and 
King  James  were  at  once  relegated  to  their 
proper  places  among  the  moderns,  while  we  went 
back  to  the  ages  of  faith. 

Four  miles  farther  we  came  to  Monasterboice, 
where  stood  two  great  Celtic  crosses.  There  are 
two  ruined  churches  and  a  round  tower.  Here 
was  an  early  religious  establishment  which  ex 
isted  before  the  times  of  St.  Columba. 

This  would  be  enough  for  one  day's  reminis 
cence,  but  my  heart  leaped  up  at  the  sight  of  a 
long  green  ridge.  "There  is  the  hill  of  Tara!" 

Having  traversed  the  period  from  King  Wil 
liam  to  the  dwellers  in  the  Halls  of  Tara,  what 
more  natural  than  to  take  a  further  plunge  into 
the  past  *? 


1 40  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

We  drive  into  an  open  field  and  alight  near  a 
rock-strewn  hill.  Candles  are  given  us  and  we 
grope  our  way  through  narrow  passages  till  we 
come  to  the  centre  of  the  hill.  Here  is  a  chamber 
some  twenty  feet  in  height.  On  the  great  stones 
which  support  the  roof  are  mystic  emblems.  On 
the  floor  is  a  large  stone  hollowed  out  in  the  shape 
of  a  bowl.  It  suggests  human  sacrifices.  My 
guide  did  not  encourage  this  suggestion.  There 
was,  he  thought,  no  historical  evidence  for  it. 
But  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  these  people  ever 
practised  such  sacrifices  this  was  the  place  for 
them.  A  gloomier  chamber  for  weird  rites  could 
not  be  imagined. 

Who  were  the  worshipers?  Druids  or  pre- 
Druids  ?  The  archaeologists  tell  us  that  they  be 
longed  to  the  Early  Bronze  period.  Now  Early 
Bronze  is  a  good  enough  term  for  articles  in  a 
museum,  but  it  does  not  suggest  a  human  being. 
We  cannot  get  on  terms  of  spiritual  intimacy 
with  the  Early  Bronze  people.  We  may  know 
what  they  did,  but  there  is  no  intimation  of  "the 
moving  why  they  did  it."  What  spurred  them 
on  to  their  feats  of  prodigious  industry?  Was  it 
fear  or  love  ?  First  they  built  their  chapel  of  great 


THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS   141 

stones  and  then  piled  a  huge  hill  on  top  of  it. 
Were  they  still  under  the  influence  of  the  gla 
cial  period  and  attempting  to  imitate  the  wild  do 
ings  of  Nature?  The  passage  of  the  ages  does 
not  make  these  men  seem  venerable,  because 
their  deeds  are  no  longer  intelligible.  Mellefont 
Abbey  is  in  ruins,  but  we  can  easily  restore  it  in 
imagination.  We  can  picture  the  great  buildings 
as  they  were  before  the  iconoclasts  destroyed 
them.  The  prehistoric  place  of  worship  in  the 
middle  of  the  hill  is  practically  unchanged.  But 
the  clue  to  its  meaning  is  lost. 

I  could  not  make  the  ancient  builders  and  wor 
shipers  seem  real.  It  was  a  relief  to  come  up  into 
the  sunshine  where  people  of  our  own  kind  had 
walked,  the  Kings  of  Tara  and  their  harpers,  and 
St.  Patrick  and  St.  Malachy  and  Oliver  Crom 
well  and  William  III.  After  the  unintelligible 
symbols  on  the  rocks,  how  familiar  and  homelike 
seemed  the  sculptures  on  the  Celtic  crosses.  They 
were  mostly  about  people,  and  people  whom  we 
had  known  from  earliest  childhood.  There  were 
Adam  and  Eve,  and  Cain  slaying  Abel,  and  the 
Magi.  They  were  members  of  our  family. 

But  between  us  and  the  builders  of  the  under- 


142  THE  TORYISM  OF  TRAVELERS 

ground  chapel  there  was  a  great  gulf.  There  was 
no  means  of  spiritual  communication  across  the 
abyss.  A  scrap  of  writing,  a  bit  of  poetry,  a  name 
handed  down  by  tradition,  would  have  been 
worth  all  the  relics  discovered  by  archaeologists. 

There  is  justification  for  the  traveler's  prefer-1 
ence  for  the  things  he  has  read  about,  for  these  f 
j  are  the  things  which  resist  the  changes  of  time. 
1  Only  he  must  remember  that  they  are  better 
'  served  in  the  book  than  in  the  places  where  they 
happened.  The  impression  which  any  generation 
makes  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  is  very  slight. 
It  cannot  give  the  true  story  of  the  brief  occu 
pancy.  That  requires  some  more  direct  interpre 
tation. 

The  magic  carpet  which  carries  us  into  any 
age  not  our  own  is  woven  by  the  poets  and  his 
torians.  Without  their  aid  we  may  travel  through 
Space,  but  not  through  Time. 


THE   OBVIOUSNESS   OF  DICKENS 


IN  the  college  world  it  is  a  point  of  honor  for 
the  successive  classes  to  treat  each  other  with 
contumely.  The  feud  between  freshman  and  soph 
omore  goes  on  automatically.  Only  when  one 
has  become  a  senior  may  he,  without  losing  caste, 
recognize  a  freshman  as  a  youth  of  promise,  and 
admit  that  a  sophomore  is  not  half  bad.  Such 
disinterested  criticism  is  tolerated  because  it  is 
evidently  the  result  of  the  mellowing  influence  of 
time. 

The  same  tendency  is  seen  in  literary  and  art 
istic  judgments.  It  is  never  good  taste  to  admit 
the  good  taste  of  the  generation  that  immediately 
precedes  us.  Its  innocent  admirations  are  flouted 
and  its  standards  are  condemned  as  provincial. 
For  we  are  always  emerging  from  the  dark  ages 
and  contrasting  their  obscurity  with  our  marvel 
ous  light.  The  sixteenth  century  scorned  the 
fifteenth  century  for  its  manifold  superstitions. 
Thomas  Fuller  tells  us  that  his  enlightened  con- 


144    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

temporaries  in  the  seventeenth  century  treated 
the  enthusiasms  of  the  sixteenth  century  with 
scant  respect.  The  price  of  martyrs'  ashes  rises 
and  falls  in  Smithfield  market.  At  a  later  period 
Pope  writes,  — 

«'  We  think  our  fathers  fools,  so  wise  we  grow: 
Our  wiser  sons,  perhaps,  will  think  us  so." 

He  need  not  have  put  in  the  "perhaps." 

The  nineteenth  century  had  its  fling  at  the 
artificiality  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  treated 
it  with  contempt  as  the  age  of  doctrinaires.  And 
now  that  the  twentieth  century  is  coming  to  the 
age  of  discretion,  we  hear  a  new  term  of  reproach, 
Mid-Victorian.  It  expresses  the  sum  of  all  vil 
lainies  in  taste.  For  some  fifty  years  in  the  nine 
teenth  century  the  English-speaking  race,  as  it  now 
appears,  was  under  the  sway  of  Mrs.  Grundy. 
It  was  living  in  a  state  of  most  reprehensible  re 
spectability,  and  Art  was  tied  to  the  apron-strings 
of  Morality.  Everybody  admired  what  ought  not 
to  be  admired.  We  are  only  now  beginning  to 
pass  judgment  on  the  manifold  mediocrity  of 
this  era. 

All  this  must,  for  the  time,  count  against  Dick 
ens  ;  for  of  all  the  Victorians  he  was  the  midmost. 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    145 

He  flourished  in  that  most  absurd  period  of  time 
— the  time  just  before  most  of  us  were  born.  And 
how  he  did  flourish !  Grave  lord  chancellors  con 
fessed  to  weeping  over  Little  Nell.  A  Mid- Victor 
ian  bishop  relates  that  after  administering  consol 
ation  to  a  man  in  his  last  illness  he  heard  him 
saying,  "At  any  rate,  a  new  'Pickwick  Paper' 
will  be  out  in  ten  days." 

Everywhere  there  was  a  wave  of  hysterical 
appreciation.  Describing  his  reading  in  Glasgow, 
Dickens  writes :  "  Such  pouring  of  hundreds  into 
..  a  place  already  full  to  the  throat,  such  indescrib 
able  confusion,  such  rending  and  tearing  of  dresses, 
and  yet  such  a  scene  of  good  humor,  I  never  saw 
the  slightest  approach  to.  ...  Fifty  frantic  men 
got  up  in  all  parts  of  the  hall  and  addressed  me 
all  at  once.  Other  frantic  men  made  speeches  to 
the  wall.  The  whole  B  family  were  borne  on  the 
top  of  a  wave  and  landed  with  their  faces  against 
the  front  of  the  platform.  I  read  with  the  platform 
crammed  with  people.  I  got  them  to  lie  down 
upon  it,  and  it  was  like  some  impossible  tableau, 
or  gigantic  picnic,  —  one  pretty  girl  lying  on 
her  side  all  night,  holding  on  to  the  legs  of  my 
table." 


146    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

In  New  York  eager  seekers  after  fiction  would 
"lie  down  on  the  pavement  the  whole  of  the 
night  before  the  tickets  were  sold,  generally  tak 
ing  up  their  position  about  ten."  There  would 
be  free  fights,  and  the  police  would  be  called  to 
quell  the  riot. 

Such  astonishing  actions  on  the  part  of  people 
who  were  unfortunate  enough  to  live  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  nineteenth  century  put  us  on  our 
guard.  It  could  not  have  been  a  serious  inter 
est  in  English  literature  that  evoked  the  mob 
spirit.  Dickens  must  have  been  writing  the  kind 
of  books  which  these  people  liked  to  hear 
read.  We  remember  with  some  misgivings  that 
in  the  days  of  our  youth  we  wept  over  Little 
Nell,  just  as  the  lord  chancellor  did.  The  ques 
tion  which  disturbs  us  is,  Ought  we  to  have 
done  so? 

Let  us  by  a  soft  answer  turn  away  the  wrath 
of  the  critic.  Doubtless  we  ought  not  to  have 
done  so.  Our  excuse  is  that,  at  the  time,  we  could 
not  help  it.  We  may  make  the  further  plea, 
common  to  all  soft-hearted  sinners,  that  if  we 
had  n't  wept,  other  people  would,  so  that  no  great 
harm  was  done,  after  all. 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    147 

But  letting  bygones  be  bygones,  and  not  seek 
ing  to  justify  the  enthusiasms  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  one  may  return  to  Dickens  as  to  the 
home  of  one's  childhood.  How  do  the  old  scenes 
affect  us?  Does  the  charm  remain?  When  thus 
we  return  to  Dickens,  we  are  compelled  to  con 
fess  the  justice  of  the  latter-day  criticism.  In  all 
his  writings  he  deals  with  characters  and  situa 
tions  which  are  wholly  obvious;  at  least  they  are 
obvious  after  he  deals  with  them.  Not  only  is  he 
without  the  art  which  conceals  art,  but,  unlike 
some  novelists  of  more  recent  fame,  he  is  with 
out  the  art  that  conceals  the  lack  of  art.  He  pro 
duces  an  impression  by  the  crude  method  of 
•  "  rubbing  it  in."  There  are  no  subtleties  to  pique 
,  our  curiosity,  no  problems  left  us  for  discussion,  no 
room  for  difference  of  opinion.  There  is  no  more 
opportunity  for  speculation  than  in  a  one-price 
clothing  store  where  every  article  is  marked  in  plain 
figures.  To  have  heartily  disliked  Mr.  Pecksniff 
and  to  have  loved  the  Cheeryble  Brothers  indi 
cates  no  sagacity  on  our  part.  The  author  has  dis 
tinctly  and  repeatedly  told  us  that  the  one  is  an 
odious  hypocrite  and  that  the  others  are  bene 
volent  to  an  unusual  degree.  Our  appreciation 


i48    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

of  Sam  Weller  does  not  prove  that  we  have  any 
sense  of  humor  save  that  which  is  common  to 
man.  For  Mr.  Weller's  humor  is  a  blessing  that 
is  not  in  disguise.  It  is  a  pump  which  needs  no 
priming.  There  is  no  denying  that  the  humor, 
the  pathos,  and  the  sentiment  of  Dickens  are 
obvious. 

All  this,  according  to  certain  critics,  goes  to 
prove  that  Dickens  lacks  distinction,  and  that  the 
writing  of  his  novels  was  a  commonplace  achieve 
ment.  This  judgment  seems  to  me  to  arise  from 
a  confusion  of  thought.  The  perception  of  the 
obvious  is  a  commonplace  achievement;  the 
creation  of  the  obvious,  and  making  it  interest 
ing,  is  the  work  of  genius.  There  is  no  intellect 
ual  distinction  in  the  enjoyment  of  "The  Pick 
wick  Papers  " ;  to  write  "  The  Pickwick  Papers  " 
would  be  another  matter. 

It  is  only  in  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  that 
English  literature  has  been  accepted  not  as  a  re 
creation,  but  as  a  subject  of  serious  study.  Now, 
the  first  necessity  for  a  study  is  that  it  should  be 
"  hard."  Some  of  the  best  brains  in  the  educa 
tional  world  have  been  enlisted  in  the  work  of 
giving  a  disciplinary  value  to  what  was  originally 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    149 

an  innocent  pleasure.  It  is  evident  that  one  can 
not  give  marks  for  the  number  of  smiles  or  tears 
evoked  by  a  tale  of  true  love.  The  novel  or  the 
play  that  is  to  hold  its  own  in  the  curriculum  in 
competition  with  trigonometry  must  have  some 
knotty  problem  which  causes  the  harassed  reader 
to  knit  his  brows  in  anxious  thought. 

In  answer  to  this  demand,  the  literary  crafts 
man  has  arisen  who  takes  his  art  with  a  seriousness 
which  makes  the  "painful  preacher  "of  the  Puri 
tan  time  seem  a  mere  pleasure-seeker.  Equipped 
with  instruments  of  precision  drawn  from  the 
psychological  laboratory,  he  is  prepared  to  satisfy 
our  craving  for  the  difficult.  By  the  method  of 
suggestion  he  tries  to  make  us  believe  that  we 
have  never  seen  his  characters  before,  and  some 
times  he  succeeds.  He  deals  in  descriptions 
which  leave  us  with  the  impression  of  an  inde 
scribable  something  which  we  should  recognize 
if  we  were  as  clever  as  he  is.  As  we  are  not  nearly 
so  clever,  we  are  left  with  a  chastened  sense  of 
our  inferiority,  which  is  doubtless  good  for  us. 
And  all  this  groping  for  the  un-obvious  is  con 
nected  with  an  equally  insistent  demand  for  real 
ism.  The  novel  must  not  only  be  as  real  as  life, 


150    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

but  it  must  be  more  so.  For  life,  as  it  appears  in 
our  ordinary  consciousness,  is  full  of  illusions. 
When  these  are  stripped  off  and  the  residuum  is 
compressed  into  a  book,  we  have  that  which  is 
at  once  intensely  real  and  painfully  unfamiliar. 

Now,  there  is  a  certain  justification  for  this.  A 
psychologist  may  show  us  aspects  of  character 
which  we  could  not  see  by  ourselves,  as  the 
X-rays  will  reveal  what  is  not  visible  to  the  naked 
eye.  But  if  the  insides  of  things  are  real,  so  also 
are  the  outsides.  Surfaces  and  forms  are  not  with 
out  their  importance. 

It  may  be  said  in  extenuation  of  Dickens  that 
the  blemish  of  obviousness  is  one  which  he  shared 
with  the  world  he  lived  in.  It  would  be  too  much 
to  say  that  all  realities  are  obvious.  There  is  a 
great  deal  that  we  do  not  see  at  the  first  glance; 
but  there  is  a  great  deal  that  we  do  see.  To  re 
produce  the  freshness  and  wonder  of  the  first  view 
of  the  obvious  world  is  one  of  the  greatest  achieve 
ments  of  the  imagination. 

The  reason  why  the  literary  artist  shuns  the 
obvious  is  that  there  is  too  much  of  it.  It  is  too 
big  for  the  limited  resources  of  his  art.  In  the 
actual  world,  realities  come  in  big  chunks.  Na- 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    151 

ture  continually  repeats  herself.  She  hammers  her 
facts  into  our  heads  with  a  persistency  which  is 
often  more  than  a  match  for  our  stupidity.  If  we 
do  not  recognize  a  fact  to-day,  it  will  hit  us  in 
the  same  place  to-morrow. 

We  are  so  used  to  this  educational  method  of 
reiteration  that  we  make  it  a  test  of  reality.  An 
impression  made  upon  us  must  be  repeated  be 
fore  it  has  validity  to  our  reason.  If  a  thing  really 
happened,  we  argue  that  it  will  happen  again 
under  the  same  conditions.  That  is  what  we  mean 
by  saying  that  we  are  under  the  reign  of  law. 
There  is  a  great  family  resemblance  between 
happenings. 

We  make  acquaintance  with  people  by  the 
same  method.  The  recognition  of  identity  de 
pends  upon  the  ability  which  most  persons  have 
of  appearing  to  be  remarkably  like  themselves. 
The  reason  why  we  think  that  the  person  whom 
we  met  to-day  is  the  same  person  we  met  yes 
terday  is  that  he  seems  the  same.  There  are  ob 
vious  resemblances  that  strike  us  at  once.  He 
looks  the  same,  he  acts  the  same,  he  has  the  same 
mannerisms,  the  same  kind  of  voice,  and  he  an 
swers  to  the  same  name.  If  Proteus,  with  the 


152    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

best  intention  in  the  world,  but  with  an  unlimited 
variety  of  self-manifestations,  were  to  call  every 
day,  we  should  greet  him  always  as  a  stranger. 
We  should  never  feel  at  home  with  so  versatile 
a  person.  A  character  must  have  a  certain  degree 
of  monotony  about  it  before  we  can  trust  it.  Un 
expectedness  is  an  agreeable  element  in  wit,  but 
not  in  friendship.  Our  friend  must  be  one  who 
can  say  with  honest  Joe  Gargery,  "  It  were  under 
stood,  and  it  are  understood,  and  it  ever  will  be 
similar,  according." 

But  in  the  use  of  this  effective  method  of  re 
iteration  there  is  a  difference  between  nature  and 
a  book.  Nature  does  not  care  whether  she  bores 
us  or  not :  she  has  us  by  the  buttonhole,  and  we 
cannot  get  away.  Not  so  with  a  book.  When 
we  are  bored,  we  lay  it  down,  and  that  brings 
the  interview  to  an  end.  It  is  from  the  fear  of 
our  impatience  that  most  writers  abstain  from 
the  natural  method  of  producing  an  impression. 

And  they  are  quite  right.  It  is  only  now  and 
then  that  an  audience  will  grant  an  extension  of 
time  to  a  speaker  in  order  that  he  may  make  his 
point  more  clear.  They  would  rather  miss  the 
point.  And  it  is  still  more  rare  for  the  reader  to 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    153 

grant  a  similar  extension  in  order  that  the  author 
may  tell  again  what  he  has  told  before.  It  is 
much  easier  to  shut  up  a  book  than  to  shut  up  a 
speaker. 

The  criticism  of  Dickens  that  his  characters 
repeat  themselves  quite  misses  the  mark.  As  well 
object  to  an  actor  that  he  frequently  responds  to 
an  encore.  If  indicted  for  the  offense,  he  could  at 
least  insist  that  the  audience  be  indicted  with  him 
as  accessory  before  the  fact. 

Dickens  tells  us  that  when  he  read  at  Harro- 
gate,  "  There  was  a  remarkably  good  fellow  of 
thirty  or  so  who  found  something  so  very  ludi 
crous  in  Toots  that  he  could  not  compose  him 
self  at  all,  but  laughed  until  he  sat  wiping  his 
eyes  with  his  handkerchief,  and  whenever  he  felt 
Toots  coming  again  he  began  to  laugh  and  wipe 
his  eyes  afresh." 

"Whenever  he  felt  Toots  coming  again"  — 
there  you  have  the  whole  philosophy  of  the  mat 
ter.  The  young  fellow  found  Toots  amusing 
when  he  first  laid  eyes  on  him.  He  wanted  to  see 
him  again,  and  it  must  always  be  the  same  Toots. 

It  is  useless  to  cavil  at  an  author  because  of 
the  means  by  which  he  produces  his  effects.  The 


154    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

important  thing  is  that  he  does  produce  an  effect. 
That  the  end  justifies  the  means  may  be  a  dan 
gerous  doctrine  in  ethics,  but  much  may  be  said 
for  it  in  literature.  The  situation  is  like  that  of 
a  middle-aged  gentleman  beset  by  a  small  boy 
on  a  morning  just  right  for  snowballing.  "Give 
me  leave,  mister?"  cries  the  youthful  sharp 
shooter.  The  good-natured  citizen  gives  leave  by 
pulling  up  his  coat-collar  and  quickening  his 
pace.  If  the  small  boy  can  hit  him,  he  is  for 
given,  if  he  cannot  hit  him,  he  is  scorned.  The 
fact  is  that  Dickens  with  a  method  as  broad  and 
repetitious  as  that  of  Nature  herself  does  succeed 
in  hitting  our  fancy.  That  is,  he  succeeds  nine 
times  out  often. 

It  is  the  minor  characters  of  Dickens  that  are 
remembered.  And  we  remember  them  for  the 
same  reason  that  we  remember  certain  faces  which 
we  have  seen  in  a  crowd.  There  is  some  salient 
feature  or  trick  of  manner  which  first  attracts  and 
then  holds  our  attention.  A  person  must  have 
some  tag  by  which  he  is  identified,  or,  so  far  as 
we  are  concerned,  he  becomes  one  of  the  innum 
erable  lost  articles.  There  are  persons  who  are 
like  umbrellas,  very  useful,  but  always  liable  to 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    155 

be  forgotten.  The  memory  is  an  infirm  faculty, 
and  must  be  humored.  It  often  clings  to  mere 
trifles.  The  man  with  the  flamboyant  neck 
tie  whom  you  saw  on  the  8.40  train  may  also 
be  the  author  of  a  volume  of  exquisite  lyrics; 
but  you  never  saw  the  lyrics,  and  you  did  see 
the  necktie.  In  the  scale  of  being,  the  necktie 
may  be  the  least  important  parcel  of  this  good 
man's  life,  but  it  is  the  only  thing  about  him 
which  attracts  your  attention.  When  you  see  it 
day  after  day  at  the  same  hour  you  feel  that  you 
have  a  real,  though  perhaps  not  a  deep,  acquaint 
ance  with  the  man  behind  it.  It  is  thus  we  habit 
ually  perceive  the  human  world.  We  see  things, 
and  infer  persons  to  correspond.  One  peculiarity 
attracts  us.  It  is  not  the  whole  man,  but  it  is  all 
of  him  that  is  for  us.  In  all  this  we  are  very 
Dickensy. 

We  may  read  an  acute  character  study  and 
straightway  forget  the  person  who  was  so  ad 
mirably  analyzed;  but  the  lady  in  the  yellow 
curl-papers  is  unforgettable.  We  really  see  very 
little  of  her,  but  she  is  real,  and  she  would  not  be 
so  real  without  her  yellow  curl-papers.  A  yellow- 
curl-paper-less  lady  in  the  Great  White  Horse 


156    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

Inn  would  be  as  unthinkable  to  us  as  a  white- 
plume-less  Henry  of  Navarre  at  Ivry. 

In  ecclesiastical  art  the  saints  are  recognized  by 
their  emblems.  Why  should  not  the  sinners  have 
the  same  means  of  identification?  Dickens  has 
the  courage  to  furnish  us  these  necessary  aids  to 
recollection.  Micawber,  Mrs.  Gummidge,  Barkis, 
Mr.  Dick,  Uriah  Heep,  Betsy  Trotwood,  Dick 
Swiveller,  Mr.  Mantalini,  Harold  Skimpole, 
Sairey  Gamp,  always  appear  with  their  appropri 
ate  insignia.  We  should  remember  that  it  is  for 
our  sakes. 

According  to  the  canons  of  literary  art,  a  fact 
should  be  stated  clearly  once  and  for  all.  It  would 
be  quite  proper  to  mention  the  fact  that  Silas 
Wegg  had  a  wooden  leg ;  but  this  fact  having 
been  made  plain,  why  should  it  be  referred  to 
again?  There  is  a  sufficient  reason  based  on 
sound  psychology.  If  the  statement  were  not  re 
peated,  we  should  forget  that  Mr.  Wegg  had  a 
wooden  leg,  and  by  and  by  we  should  forget  Silas 
Wegg  himself.  He  would  fade  away  among  the 
host  of  literary  gentlemen  who  are  able  to  read 
"  The  Decline  and  Fall,"  but  who  are  not  able  to 
keep  themselves  out  of  the  pit  of  oblivion.  But 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    157 

when  we  repeatedly  see  Mr.  Wegg  as  Mr.  Boffin 
saw  him,  "  the  literary  gentleman  with  a  wooden 
leg,"  we  feel  that  we  really  have  the  pleasure  of 
his  acquaintance.  There  is  not  only  perception  of 
him,  but  what  the  pedagogical  people  call  apper 
ception.  Our  idea  of  Mr.  Wegg  is  inseparably 
connected  with  our  antecedent  ideas  of  general 
woodenness. 

Again,  we  are  introduced  to  "a  large,  hard- 
breathing,  middle-aged  man,  with  a  mouth  like 
a  fish,  dull,  staring  eyes,  and  sandy  hair  standing 
upright  on  his  head,  so  that  he  looked  as  if  he 
had  been  choked  and  had  at  that  moment  come  to." 
This  is  Mr.  Pumblechook.  He  does  not  emerge 
slowly  like  a  ship  from  below  the  horizon.  We 
see  him  all  at  once,  eyes,  mouth,  hair,  and  character 
to  match.  It  is  a  case  of  falling  into  acquaintance 
at  first  sight.  We  are  now  ready  to  hear  what 
Mr.  Pumblechook  says  and  see  what  he  does.  We 
have  a  reasonable  assurance  that  whatever  he  says 
and  does  it  will  be  just  like  Mr.  Pumblechook. 

We  enter  a  respectable  house  in  a  shady  angle 
adjoining  Portman  Square.  We  go  out  to  dinner 
in  solemn  procession.  We  admire  the  preternat 
ural  solidity  of  the  furniture  and  the  plate.  The 


158    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

hostess  is  a  fine  woman,  "  with  neck  and  nostrils 
like  a  rocking-horse,  hard  features  and  majestic 
headdress."  Her  husband,  large  and  pompous, 
with  little  light-colored  wings  "  more  like  hair 
brushes  than  hair"  on  the  sides  of  his  otherwise 
bald  head,  begins  to  discourse  on  the  British  Con 
stitution.  We  now  know  as  much  of  Mr.  Pod- 
snap  as  we  shall  know  at  the  end  of  the  book. 
But  it  is  a  real  knowledge  conveyed  by  the 
method  that  gives  dinner-parties  their  educational 
value.  We  forgive  Dickens  his  superfluous  dis 
course  on  Podsnappery  in  general.  For  his  re 
marks  are  precisely  of  the  kind  which  we  make 
when  the  party  is  over,  and  we  sit  by  the  fire 
generalizing  and  allegorizing  the  people  we  have 
met. 

That  Mr.  Thomas  Gradgrind  was  unduly  ad 
dicted  to  hard  facts  might  have  been  delicately 
insinuated  in  the  course  of  two  hundred  pages. 
We  might  have  felt  a  mild  pleasure  in  the  dis 
covery  which  we  had  made,  and  then  have  gone 
our  way  forgetting  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 
What  is  Gradgrind  to  us  or  we  to  Gradgrind? 
Dickens  introduces  him  to  us  in  all  his  uncom 
promising  squareness — "  square  coat,  square  legs, 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    159 

square  shoulders,  nay,  his  very  neckcloth  is  trained 
to  take  him  by  the  throat  with  an  unaccommodat 
ing  grasp."  We  are  made  at  once  to  see  "  the 
square  wall  of  a  forehead  which  had  his  eyebrows 
for  its  base,  while  his  eyes  found  commodious 
cellarage  in  the  two  dark  caves  overshadowed  by 
the  wall."  Having  taken  all  this  in  at  a  glance, 
there  is  nothing  more  to  be  done  in  the  develop 
ment  of  the  character  of  Mr.  Gradgrind.  He  takes 
his  place  among  the  obvious  facts  of  existence. 
But  in  so  much  as  we  were  bound  to  find  him  out 
sometime,  shall  we  quarrel  with  Dickens  because 
we  were  enabled  to  do  so  in  the  first  chapter  *? 

Nor  do  the  obvious  exaggerations  of  Dickens 
arising  from  the  exuberance  of  his  fancy  interfere 
with  the  sense  of  reality.  A  truth  is  not  less  true 
because  it  is  in  large  print.  We  recognize  creat 
ures  who  are  prodigiously  like  ourselves,  and  we 
laugh  at  the  difference  in  scale.  Did  not  all  Lilli- 
put  laugh  over  the  discovery  of  Gulliver  ?  How 
they  rambled  over  the  vast  expanse  of  counte 
nance,  recognizing  each  feature  —  lips,  cheek, 
nose,  chin,  brow.  "  How  very  odd,"  they  would 
say  to  themselves,  "  and  how  very  like ! " 

It  is  to  the  wholesome  obviousness  of  Dickens 


160    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

that  we  owe  the  atmosphere  of  good  cheer  that 
surrounds  his  characters.  No  writer  has  pictured 
more  scenes  of  squalid  misery,  and  yet  we  are  not 
depressed.  There  is  bad  weather  enough,  but  we 
are  not  "  under  the  weather."  There  are  charac 
ters  created  to  be  hated.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  hate 
them.  As  to  the  others,  whenever  their  trials  and 
tribulations  abate  for  an  instant,  they  relapse  into 
a  state  of  unabashed  contentment. 

This  is  unusual  in  literature,  for  most  literary 
men  are  saddest  when  they  write.  The  fact  is  that 
happiness  is  much  more  easy  to  experience  than 
to  describe,  as  any  one  may  learn  in  trying  to  de 
scribe  a  good  time  he  has  had.  One  good  time  is 
very  much  like  another  good  time.  Moreover,  we 
are  shy,  and  dislike  to  express  our  enthusiasm.  We 
would  n't  for  the  world  have  any  one  know  what 
simple  creatures  we  are  and  how  little  it  takes  to 
make  us  happy.  So  we  talk  critically  about  a 
great  many  things  we  do  not  care  very  much  about, 
and  complain  of  the  absence  of  many  things  which 
we  do  not  really  miss.  We  feel  badly  about  not 
being  invited  to  a  party  which  we  don't  want  to 
goto. 

We  are  like  a  horse  that  has  been  trained  to 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS     161 

be  a  "  high-stepper."  By  prancing  over  imaginary 
difficulties  and  shying  at  imaginary  dangers  he 
gives  an  impression  of  mettlesomeness  which  is 
foreign  to  his  native  disposition. 

The  story-teller  is  on  the  lookout  for  these 
eager  attitudes.  He  cannot  afford  to  let  his  char 
acters  be  too  happy.  There  is  a  literary  value  in 
misery  that  he  cannot  afford  to  lose. 

That  "  the  course  of  true  love  never  did  run 
smooth  "  is  an  assertion  of  story-tellers  rather  than 
of  ordinary  lovers.  The  fact  is  that  nothing  is  so 
easy  as  falling  in  love  and  staying  there.  It  is  a  very 
common  experience,  so  common  that  it  attracts 
little  attention.  The  course  of  true  love  usually 
runs  so  smoothly  that  there  is  nothing  that  causes 
remark.  It  is  not  an  occasion  of  gossip.  Two  good- 
tempered  and  healthy  persons  are  obviously  made 
for  each  other.  They  know  it,  and  everybody  else 
knows  it,  and  they  keep  on  knowing  it,  and  act,  jt^ 
as  Joe  Gargery  would  say,  "similar,  according." 

The  trouble  is  that  the  literary  man  finds  that 
this  does  not  afford  exciting  material  for  a  best 
seller.  So  he  must  invent  hazards  to  make  the 
game  interesting  to  the  spectators.  In  a  story  the 
course  of  true  love  must  not  run  smooth  or  no 


1 62    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

one  would  read  it.  The  old-time  romancer  brought 
his  young  people  through  all  sorts  of  misadven 
tures.  When  all  the  troubles  he  could  think  of 
were  over,  he  left  them  abruptly  at  the  church 
door,  murmuring  feebly  to  the  gentle  reader, 
"  they  were  happy  ever  after." 

The  present-day  novelist  is  offended  at  this  end 
ing.  "  How  absurd !  "  he  says.  "  They  are  still  in 
the  early  twenties.  The  world  is  all  before  them, 
and  they  have  time  to  fall  into  all  sorts  of  troubles 
which  the  romanticist  has  not  thought  of.  Middle 
age  is  just  as  dangerous  a  period  as  youth,  and 
matrimony  has  its  pitfalls.  Let  me  take  up  the 
story  and  tell  you  how  they  did  n't  live  happily 
ever  afterwards,  but,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  cat- 
and-dog  life  of  it." 

Now  I  would  pardon  the  novelist  if  he  were 
perfectly  honest  and  were  to  say,  "Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  am  trying  to  interest  you.  I  have 
not  the  skill  to  make  a  story  of  placid  happiness 
interesting.  So  I  will  do  the  next  best  thing.  I 
will  tell  you  a  story  of  a  different  kind.  It  is  the 
picture  of  a  kind  of  life  that  is  easier  to  make 
readable." 

In  making  such  a  confession  he  would  be  in 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS     163 

good  company.  Even  Shakespeare,  with  all  his 
dramatic  genius,  confessed  that  he  could  not 
avoid  monotony  in  his  praise  of  true  love.  Its 
ways  were  ways  of  pleasantness,  but  did  not  af 
ford  much  incentive  to  originality. 

"Since  all  alike  my  songs  and  praises  be 
To  one,  of  one,  still  such,  and  ever  so. 
Kind  is  my  love  to-day,  to-morrow  kind, 
Still  constant  in  a  wondrous  excellence  ; 
Therefore  my  verse  to  constancy  confined, 
One  thing  expressing,  leaves  out  difference. 
'  Fair,  kind,  and  true '  is  all  my  argument, 
'  Fair,  kind,  and  true '  varying  to  other  words ; 
And  in  this  change  is  my  invention  spent." 

But  the  novelist,  when  he  takes  himself  too 
seriously  as  the  man  who  is  to  show  us  "  life  as  it 
is,"  is  not  content  to  acknowledge  his  limitations. 
When  he  pictures  a  situation  in  which  there  is 
nothing  but  a  succession  of  problems  and  misun 
derstandings,  he  asks  us  to  admire  his  austere 
faithfulness.  Faithful  he  may  be  to  his  Art,  as  he 
understands  it,  but  he  is  not  faithful  to  reality, 
unless  he  is  able  to  make  us  see  ordinary  people 
in  the  act  of  enjoying  themselves. 

The  most  obvious  thing  in  life  is  that  people 
are  seldom  as  unhappy  as  their  circumstances 


1 64    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

would  lead  us  to  expect.  Nobody  is  happy  all 
the  time,  and  if  he  were,  nobody  is  enough  of  a 
genius  to  make  his  undeviating  felicity  interesting. 
But  a  great  many  people  are  happy  most  of  the 
time,  and  almost  everybody  has  been  happy  at 
some  time  or  other.  It  may  have  been  only  a  mo 
mentary  experience,  but  it  was  very  real,  and  he 
likes  to  think  about  it.  He  is  excessively  grateful 
to  any  one  who  recalls  the  feeling.  The  point  is 
that  the  aggregate  of  these  good  times  makes  a 
considerable  amount  of  cheerfulness. 

Dickens  does  not  attempt  the  impossible  liter 
ary  feat  of  showing  us  one  person  who  is  happy 
all  the  time,  but  he  does  what  is  more  obvious, 
he  makes  us  see  a  great  many  people  who  have 
snatches  of  good  cheer  in  the  midst  of  their  hum 
drum  lives.  He  lets  us  see  another  obvious  fact, 
that  happiness  is  more  a  matter  of  temperament 
than  of  circumstance.  It  is  not  given  as  a  reward 
of  merit  or  as  a  mark  of  distinguished  considera 
tion.  There  is  one  perennial  fountain  of  pleasure. 
Any  one  can  have  a  good  time  who  can  enjoy 
himself.  Dickens  was  not  above  celebrating  the 
kind  of  happiness  which  comes  to  the  natural 
man  and  the  natural  boy  through  what  we  call  the 


THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS    165 

"creature  comforts."  He  could  sympathize  with 
the  unadulterated  self-satisfaction  of  little  Jack 
Horner  when 

"  He  put  in  his  thumb 
And  pulled  out  a  plum, 
And  said,  '  What  a  great  boy  am  I  ! '  " 

The  finding  of  the  plum  was  not  a  matter  of 
world-wide  importance,  but  it  was  a  great  pleas 
ure  for  Jack  Horner,  and  he  did  not  care  who 
knew  it. 

What  joy  Mr.  Micawber  gets  out  of  his  own 
eloquence !  We  cannot  begrudge  him  this  un 
earned  increment.  We  sympathize,  as,  "much 
affected,  but  still  intensely  enjoying  himself,  Mr. 
Micawber  folded  up  his  letter  and  handed  it  with 
a  bow  to  my  aunt  as  something  she  might  like  to 
keep." 

And  R.  Wilfer,  despite  his  meagre  salary,  and 
despite  Mrs.  Wilfer,  enjoys  himself  whenever  he 
gets  a  chance.  When  he  goes  to  Greenwich  with 
Bella  he  finds  everything  as  it  should  be.  "  Every 
thing  was  delightful.  The  Park  was  delightful; 
the  punch  was  delightful,  the  dishes  of  fish  were 
delightful;  the  wine  was  delightful."  If  that  was 
not  happiness,  what  was  it? 


1 66    THE  OBVIOUSNESS  OF  DICKENS 

Said  R.  Wilfer :  "  Supposing  a  man  to  go 
through  life,  we  won't  say  with  a  companion,  but 
we  will  say  with  a  tune.  Very  good.  Supposing 
the  tune  allotted  to  him  was  the  '  Dead  March  * 
in  'Saul/  Well.  It  would  be  a  very  suitable 
tune  for  particular  occasions  —  none  more  so  — 
but  it  would  be  difficult  to  keep  time  with  it  in 
the  ordinary  run  of  domestic  transactions." 

It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation  that  those 
who  have  allotted  to  them  the  most  solemn  music 
do  not  always  keep  time  with  it.  In  the  "  ordinary 
run  of  domestic  transactions  "  they  find  many  little 
alleviations.  In  the  aggregate  these  amount  to  a 
considerable  blessing.  The  world  may  be  rough, 
and  many  of  its  ways  may  be  cruel,  but  for  all 
that  it  is  a  joyful  sensation  to  be  alive,  and  the 
more  alive  we  are,  the  better  we  like  it.  All  of 
which  is  very  obvious,  and  it  is  what  we  want 
somebody  to  point  out  for  us  again  and  again. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN  OF 
CIVILIZATION 


TO  spoil  a  child  is  no  easy  task,  for  Nature 
is  all  the  time  working  in  behalf  of  the 
childish  virtues  and  veracities,  and  is  gently  cor 
recting  the  abnormalities  of  education.  Still  it 
can  be  done.  The  secret  of  it  is  never  to  let  the 
child  alone,  and  to  insist  on  doing  for  him  all 
that  he  would  otherwise  do  for  himself — and 
more. 

In  that  "  more  "  lies  the  spoiling  power.  The 
child  must  be  early  made  acquainted  with  the 
feeling  of  satiety.  There  must  be  too  much  of 
everything.  If  he  were  left  to  himself  to  any  ex 
tent,  this  would  be  an  unknown  experience.  For 
he  is  a  hungry  little  creature,  with  a  growing 
appetite,  and  naturally  is  busy  ministering  to  his 
own  needs.  He  is  always  doing  something  for 
himself,  and  enjoys  the  exercise.  The  little 
egoist,  even  wfeen  he  has  "no  language  but  a 
cry,"  uses  that  language  to  make  known  to  the 


1 68       THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

world  that  he  wants  something  and  wants  it 
very  much.  As  his  wants  increase,  his  exertions 
increase  also.  Arms  and  legs,  fingers  and  toes, 
muscles  and  nerves  and  busy  brain  are  all  at 
work  to  get  something  which  he  desires.  He 
is  a  mechanic  fashioning  his  little  world  to  his 
own  uses.  He  is  a  despot  who  insists  on  his 
divine  right  to  rule  the  subservient  creatures 
around  him.  He  is  an  inventor  devising  ways 
and  means  to  secure  all  the  ends  which  he  has 
the  wit  to  see.  That  these  great  works  on  which 
he  has  set  his  heart  end  in  self  is  obvious  enough, 
but  we  forgive  him.  Altruism  will  come  in  its 
own  time. 

In  natural  play  a  boy  will  be  a  horse  or  a 
driver.  Either  occupation  gives  him  plenty  to 
do.  But  the  role  of  an  elderly  passenger,  given 
a  softly  cushioned  seat  and  deposited  respect 
fully  at  the  journey's  end,  he  rejects  with  violent 
expressions  of  scorn.  It  is  ignominious.  He  will 
be  a  policeman  or  robber  or  judge  or  executioner, 
just  as  the  exigencies  of  the  game  demand. 
These  are  honorable  positions  worthy  of  oqe  who 
belongs  to  the  party  of  action.  But  do  not  im 
pose  upon  him  by  asking  him  to  act  the  part  of 


OF   CIVILIZATION  169 

the  respectable  citizen  who  is  robbed  and  who 
does  nothing  but  telephone  for  the  police.  He  is 
not  fastidious  and  will  take  up  almost  anything 
that  is  suggested,  if  it  gives  him  the  opportunity 
of  exerting  himself.  The  demand  for  exertion  is 
the  irreducible  minimum. 

Now  to  spoil  all  this  fine  enthusiasm  you 
must  arrange  everything  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  eager  little  worker  shall  find  everything 
done  before  he  has  time  to  put  his  hand  to  it. 
There  must  be  no  alluring  possibilities  in  his 
tiny  universe.  The  days  of  creation,  when  "  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy,"  must  be  passed 
before  he  is  ushered  in.  He  must  be  presented 
only  with  accomplished  facts.  There  must  be 
nothing  left  for  him  to  make  or  discover.  He 
must  be  told  everything.  All  his  designs  must 
be  anticipated,  by  nurses  and  parents  and  teach 
ers.  They  must  give  him  whatever  good  things 
they  can  think  of  before  he  has  time  to  desire 
them.  From  the  time  when  elaborate  mechanical 
toys  are  put  into  his  reluctant  hands,  it  is  under 
stood  that  he  is  to  be  amused,  and  need  not 
amuse  himself^  His  education  is  arranged  for 
him.  His  companions  are  chosen  for  him.  There 


i  yo      THE   SPOILED  CHILDREN 

is  nothing  for  him  to  do,  and  if  there  were,  there 
is  no  incentive  for  him  to  do  it.  In  the  game  of 
life  he  is  never  allowed  to  be  the  horse.  It  is  his 
fate  to  be  the  passenger. 

A  child  is  spoiled  when  he  accepts  the  position 
into  which  fond,  foolish  parents  thrust  him.  Being 
a  passenger  on  what  was  presumably  intended  to 
be  a  pleasure  excursion,  he  begins  to  find  fault  as 
soon  as  the  journey  becomes  a  little  wearisome. 
He  must  find  fault,  because  that  is  the  only 
thing  left  for  him  to  find.  Having  no  opportun 
ity  to  exercise  his  creative  faculties,  he  becomes 
a  petulant  critic  of  a  world  he  can  neither  enjoy 
nor  understand.  Taking  for  granted  that  every 
thing  should  be  done  for  him,  he  is  angry  be 
cause  it  is  not  done  better.  His  ready-made 
world  does  not  please  him  —  why  should  it  ?  It 
never  occurs  to  him  that  if  he  does  not  like  it  he 
should  try  and  make  it  better. 

Unfortunately,  the  characteristics  of  the  spoiled 
child  do  not  vanish  with  childhood  or  even  with 
adolescence.  A  university  training  does  not  ne 
cessarily  '  transform  petulance  into  ripe  wisdom. 
Literary  ability  may  only  give  fluent  expres 
sion  to  a  peevish  spirit. 


OF  CIVILIZATION  171 

Among  the  innumerable  children  of  an  ad 
vanced  civilization  there  are  those  who  have 
been  spoiled  by  the  petting  to  which  they  have 
been  subjected.  Life  has  been  made  so  easy  for 
them  that  when  they  come  upon  hard  places 
which  demand  sturdy  endurance  they  break 
forth  into  angry  complaints.  They  have  been 
given  the  results  of  the  complicated  activities 
of  mankind,  without  having  done  their  share  in 
the  common  tasks.  They  have  not  through  per 
sonal  endeavor  learned  how  much  everything 
costs.  They  are  not  able,  therefore,  to  pay  cheer 
fully  for  any  future  good.  If  it  is  not  given  to 
them  at  once  they  feel  that  they  have  a  griev 
ance.  For  friendly  cooperation  they  are  not  pre 
pared.  They  must  have  their  own  way  or  they 
will  not  play  the  game.  Their  fretful  complaints 
are  like  those  of  the  children  in  the  old-time 
market-places  :  "  We  have  piped  unto  you  and 
you  have  not  danced,  we  have  mourned  unto 
you  and  you  have  not  lamented." 

There  is  a  fashionable  attitude  of  mind  among 
many  who  pride  themselves  on  their  acute  intel- 
lectualism.  It  manifests  itself  in  a  supercilious 
compassion  for  the  efforts  and  ambitions  of  the 


172       THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

man  of  action.  He,  poor  fellow,  is  well-meaning, 
but  unilluminated.  He  is  eager  and  energetic 
because  he  imagines  that  he  is  accomplishing 
something.  If  he  were  a  serious  thinker  he  would 
see  that  all  effort  is  futile.  We  are  here  in  an 
unintelligible  world,  a  world  of  mighty  forces, 
moving  we  know  not  whither.  We  are  subject  to 
passions  and  impulses  which  we  cannot  resist.  We 
are  never  so  helpless  as  when  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  human  affairs.  We  have  great  words  which 
we  utter  proudly.  We  talk  of  Civilization,  Chris 
tianity,  Democracy,  and  the  like.  What  miser 
able  failures  they  all  are.  Civilization  has  failed 
to  produce  contentment.  It  has  failed  to  secure 
perfect  justice  between  man  and  man,  or  to  sat 
isfy  the  hungry  with  bread.  Christianity  after  all 
these  centuries  of  preaching  leaves  mankind  as 
we  see  it  to-day  —  an  armed  camp,  nation  fight 
ing  nation,  class  warring  against  class.  The  demo 
cratic  movement  about  which  we  hear  so  much 
is  equally  unsuccessful.  After  its  brilliant  pro 
mises  it  leaves  us  helpless  against  the  passion 
and  stupidity  of  the  mob.  Popular  education 
adds  to  the  tribulations  of  society.  It  rapidly 
increases  the  number  of  the  discontented.  The 


OF   CIVILIZATION  173 

half-educated  are  led  astray  by  quacks  and  dema 
gogues  who  flourish  mightily.  The  higher  tech 
nical  education  increases  that  intellectual  prole 
tariat  which  Bismarck  saw  to  be  a  peril.  Science, 
which  once  Was  hailed  as  a  deliverer,  is  now  per 
ceived  to  bring  only  the  disillusioning  knowledge 
of  our  limitations.  The  bankruptcy  of  Science 
follows  closely  upon  the  bankruptcy  of  Faith. 
Mechanical  inventions,  instead  of  decreasing  the 
friction  of  life,  enormously  increase  it.  We  are 
destined  to  be  dragged  along  by  our  own  ma 
chines  which  are  to  go  faster  and  faster.  Philan 
thropy  increases  the  number  of  the  unfit.  The 
advances  of  medicine  are  only  apparent,  while 
statistics  show  that  tuberculosis,  a  disease  of 
early  life,  decreases,  cancer  and  diseases  of  later 
life  increase. 

As  for  the  general  interest  in  social  ameliora 
tion,  that  is  the  worst  sign  of  all.  "  Coming 
events  cast  their  shadows  before,"  and  we  may 
see  the  shadow  of  the  coming  Revolution.  Is 
there  any  symptom  of  decadence  more  sure 
than  when  the  moral  temperature  suddenly  rises 
above  normal  ?  Watch  the  clinical  charts  of  Em 
pire.  In  the  period  of  national  vigor  the  blood  is 


174      THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

cool.  But  the  time  arrives  when  the  period  of 
growth  has  passed.  Then  a  boding  sense  comes 
on.  The  huge  frame  of  the  patient  is  feverish. 
The  social  conscience  is  sensitive.  All  sorts  of 
soft-hearted  proposals  for  helping  the  masses  are 
proposed.  The  world  rulers  become  too  tender 
hearted  for  their  business.  Then  comes  the 
end. 

Read  again  the  history  of  the  Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  How  admirable 
were  the  efforts  of  the  "good  emperors,"  and 
how  futile  !  Consider  again  the  oft-repeated  story 
of  the  way  the  humanitarianism  of  Rousseau 
ushered  in  the  French  Revolution  and  the  Reign 
of  Terror. 

With  such  gloomy  forebodings  do  the  over- 
civilized  thinkers  and  writers  try  to  discourage 
the  half-civilized  and  half-educated  workers,  who 
are  trying  to  make  things  better.  How  shall  we 
answer  the  prophets  of  ill  ? 

Not  by  denying  the  existence  of  the  evils  they 
see,  or  the  possibility  of  the  calamities  which 
they  fear.  What  we  object  to  is  the  mental  atti 
tude  toward  the  facts  that  are  discovered.  The 
spoiled  child,  when  it  discovers  something  not 


OF  CIVILIZATION  175 

to  its  liking,  exaggerates  the  evil,  and  indulges 
its  ill-temper. 

The  well-trained  man  faces  the  evil,  studies  it, 
measures  it,  and  then  sets  to  work.  He  is  well 
aware  that  nothing  human  is  perfect,  and  that  to 
accomplish  one  thing  is  only  to  reveal  another 
thing  which  needs  to  be  done.  There  must  be  per 
petual  readjustment,  and  reconsideration.  What 
was  done  yesterday  must  be  done  over  again 
to-day  in  a  somewhat  different  way.  But  all  this 
does  not  prove  the  futility  of  effort.  It  only 
proves  that  the  effort  must  be  unceasing,  and 
that  it  must  be  more  and  more  wisely  directed. 

He  compares,  for  example,  Christianity  as  an 
ideal  with  Christianity  as  an  actual  achievement. 
He  places  in  parallel  columns  the  maxims  of 
Jesus,  and  the  policies  of  Christian  nations  and  the 
actual  state  of  Christian  churches.  The  discrep 
ancy  is  obvious  enough.  But  it  does  not  prove 
that  Christianity  is  a  failure ;  it  only  proves  that 
its  work  is  unfinished. 

A  political  party  may  adopt  a  platform  filled 
with  excellent  proposals  which  if  thoroughly  car 
ried  out  would  bring  in  the  millennium.  But  it 
is  too  much  to  expect  that  it  would  all  be  accom- 


1 76       THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

plished  in  four  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period 
we  should  not  be  surprised  if  the  reformers  should 
ask  for  a  further  extension  of  time. 

The  spoiled  children  of  civilization  eliminate 
from  their  problem  the  one  element  which  is  con 
stant  and  significant — human  effort.  They  forget 
that  from  the  beginning  human  life  has  been  a 
tremendous  struggle  against  great  odds.  Nothing 
has  come  without  labor,  no  advance  has  been  with 
out  daring  leadership.  New  fortunes  have  always 
had  their  hazards. 

Forgetting  all  this,  and  accepting  whatever  com 
forts  may  have  come  to  them  as  their  right,  they 
are  depressed  and  discouraged  by  their  vision  of 
the  future  with  its  dangers  and  its  difficulties. 
They  habitually  talk  of  the  civilized  world  as  on 
the  brink  of  some  great  catastrophe  which  it  is 
impossible  to  avoid.  This  gloomy  foreboding  is 
looked  upon  as  an  indication  of  wisdom. 

It  should  be  dismissed,  I  think,  as  an  indica 
tion  of  childish  unreason,  unworthy  of  any  one 
who  faces  realities.  It  is  still  true  that  "  the  mor 
row  shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself. 
Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

The  notion  that  coming  events  cast  shadows  be- 


OF  CIVILIZATION  177 

fore  is  a  superstition.  How  can  they*?  A  shadow 
must  be  the  shadow  of  something.  The  only  events 
that  can  cast  a  shadow  are  those  which  have  al 
ready  taken  place.  Behind  them  is  the  light  of 
experience,  shining  upon  actualities  which  inter 
cept  its  rays. 

The  shadows  which  affright  us  are  of  our  own 
making.  They  are  projections  into  the  future  of 
our  own  experiences.  They  are  sharply  denned 
silhouettes,  rather  than  vague  omens.  When  we 
look  at  them  closely  we  can  recognize  familiar 
features.  We  are  dealing  with  cause  and  effect. 
What  is  done  foreshadows  what  remains  to  be 
done.  Every  act  implies  some  further  acts  as  its 
results.  When  a  principle  is  recognized  its  practi 
cal  applications  must  follow.  When  men  begin 
to  reason  from  new  premises  they  are  bound  t* 
come  to  new  conclusions. 

It  is  evident  that  in  the  last  half-century  enough 
discoveries  have  been  made  to  keep  us  busy  for 
a  long  time.  Every  scientific  advance  upsets  some 
custom  and  interferes  with  some  vested  interest. 
You  cannot  discover  the  truth  about  tuberculosis 
without  causing  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  the 
owners  of  unsanitary  dwellings.  Some  of  them 


1 78       THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

are  widows  whose  little  all  is  invested  in  this  kind 
of  property.  The  health  inspectors  make  life  more 
difficult  for  them. 

Scholarly  research  among  ancient  manuscripts 
is  the  cause  of  destructive  criticism.  The  scholar 
with  the  most  peaceable  intentions  in  the  world 
disturbs  some  one's  faith.  His  discovery  perhaps 
involves  the  reconstruction  of  a  whole  system  of 
philosophy. 

A  law  is  passed.  The  people  are  pleased  with 
it,  and  then  forget  all  about  it.  But  by  and  by  a 
conscientious  executive  comes  into  office  who 
thinks  it  his  duty  to  enforce  the  law.  Such  acci 
dents  are  liable  to  happen  in  the  most  good- 
humored  democracy.  When  he  tries  to  enforce 
it  there  is  a  burst  of  angry  surprise.  He  is  treated 
as  a  revolutionist  who  is  attacking  the  established 
order.  And  yet  to  the  moderately  philosophic  ob 
server  the  making  of  the  law  and  its  enforcement 
belong  to  the  same  process.  The  difficulty  is  that 
though  united  logically  they  are  often  widely 
separated  chronologically. 

The  adjustment  to  a  new  theory  involves 
changes  in  practice.  But  the  practical  man  who 
has  usually  little  interest  in  new  theories  is  sur- 


OF  CIVILIZATION  179 

prised  and  angry  when  the  changes  come.  He 
looks  upon  them  as  arbitrary  interferences  with 
his  rights. 

Even  when  it  is  admitted  that  when  considered 
in  a  large  way  the  change  is  for  the  better, 
the  question  arises,  Who  is  to  pay  for  it  ?  The 
discussion  on  this  point  is  bound  to  be  acrimoni 
ous,  as  we  are  not  saints  and  nobody  wants  to 
pay  more  than  his  share  of  the  costs  of  progress. 
Even  the  price  of  liberty  is  something  which  we 
grumble  over. 

You  have  noticed  how  it  is  when  a  new  boule 
vard  is  laid  in  any  part  of  the  city.  There  is  al 
ways  a  dispute  between  the  municipality  and  the 
abutters.  Should  the  abutters  be  assessed  for 
betterments  or  should  they  sue  for  damages'? 
Usually  both  actions  are  instituted.  The  cost 
of  such  litigation  should  be  included  in  the 
price  which  the  community  pays  for  the  im 
provement. 

If  people  always  knew  what  was  good  for  them 
and  acted  accordingly,  this  would  be  a  very  dif 
ferent  world,  though  not  nearly  so  interesting. 
But  we  do  not  know  what  is  good  for  us  till  we 
try ;  and  human  life  is  spent  in  a  series  of  ex- 


i8o      THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

periments.  The  experiments  are  costly,  but  there 
is  no  other  way  of  getting  results.  All  that  we 
can  say  to  a  person  who  refuses  to  interest  him 
self  in  these  experiments,  or  who  looks  upon  all 
experiments  as  futile  which  do  not  turn  out  as 
he  wished,  is  that  his  attitude  is  childish.  The 
great  commandment  to  the  worker  or  thinker  is, 
—  Thou  shalt  not  sulk. 

Sulking  is  no  more  admirable  in  those  of  great 
reputation  than  it  is  in  the  nursery.  Thackeray 
declared  that,  in  his  opinion,  "  love  is  a  higher 
intellectual  exercise  than  hate."  And  looked  at 
as  an  exercise  of  mental  power  courage  must  al 
ways  be  greater  than  the  most  highly  intellectual- 
ized  form  of  fear  or  despair. 

I  cannot  take  with  perfect  seriousness  Mat 
thew  Arnold's  oft-quoted  lines:  — 

"  Achilles  ponders  in  his  tent, 
The  kings  of  modern  thought  are  dumb. 
Silent  they  are,  though  not  content, 
And  wait  to  see  the  future  come. 
They  have  the  grief  men  had  of  yore, 
But  they  contend  and  cry  no  more." 

If  that  is  ever  the  attitude  of  the  best  minds, 
it  is  only  a  momentary  one  of  which  they  are 


OF  CIVILIZATION  181 

quickly  ashamed.  Achilles  sulked  in  his  tent 
when  he  was  pondering  not  a  big  problem,  but 
a  small  grievance.  The  kings  of  modern  thought 
who  are  described  seem  like  kings  out  of  a  job. 
We  are  inclined  to  turn  from  them  to  the  intel 
lectual  monarchs  de  facto.  They  are  the  ones  who 
take  up  the  hard  job  which  the  representatives  of 
the  old  regime  give  up  as  hopeless.  For  when 
the  king  has  abdicated  and  contends  no  more  — 
Long  live  the  King ! 

The  real  thinkers  of  any  age  do  not  remain 
long  in  a  blue  funk.  They  always  find  some 
thing  important  to  think  about.  They  always 
point  out  something  worth  doing.  They  cannot 
passively  wait  to  see  the  future  come.  They  are 
too  busy  making  it. 

Matthew  Arnold  struck  a  truer  note  in  Rugby 
Chapel.  The  true  leaders  of  mankind  can  never 
be  mere  intellectualists.  There  must  be  a  union 
of  intellectual  and  moral  energy  like  that  which 
he  recognized  in  his  father.  To  the  fainting,  dis 
pirited  race, — 

"  Ye  like  angels  appear, 
Radiant  with  ardour  divine, 
Beacons  of  hope,  ye  appear  ! 
Languor  is  not  in  your  heart, 


1 82       THE  SPOILED  CHILDREN 

Weakness  is.  not  in  your  word, 
Weariness  not  on  your  brow  ; 
Ye  alight  in  our  van  :  at  your  voice 
Panic,  despair,  flee  away." 

When  those  whom  we  have  looked  upon  as 
our  intellectual  leaders  grow  disheartened,  we 
must  remember  that  a  lost  leader  does  not  neces 
sarily  mean  a  lost  cause.  When  those  whom  we 
had  called  the  kings  of  modern  thought  are 
dumb,  we  can  find  new  leadership.  "  Change 
kings  with  us,"  replied  an  Irish  officer  after  the 
panic  of  the  Boyne ;  "  change  kings  with  us,  and 
we  will  fight  you  again." 


ON   REALISM  AS   AN   INVESTMENT 


From  a  Real-Estate  Dealer  to  a  Realistic  Novelist 

DEAR  SIR:  — 
I  have  been  for  some  time  interested  in 
your  projects  for  the  improvement  of  literature. 
When  I  saw  your  name  in  the  newspapers,  I 
looked  you  up  in  "  Who 's  Who,"  and  found  that 
your  rating  is  excellent.  What  pleased  me  was 
the  bold  way  you  attacked  the  old  firms  which 
have  been  living  on  their  reputations.  The  way 
you  showed  up  Dickens,  Thackeray  &  Co.  showed 
that  you  know  a  thing  or  two.  As  for  W.  Scott 
and  the  other  speculators  who  have  been  preying 
on  the  credulity  of  the  public,  you  gave  them 
something  to  think  about.  You  showed  conclu 
sively  that  instead  of  dealing  in  hard  facts,  they 
have  been  handing  out  fiction  under  the  guise  of 
novels. 

Our  minds  run  in  the  same  channel :  you  deal 
in  reality  and  I  deal  in  realty,  but  the  principle 
is  the  same.  I  inclose  some  of  the  literature  which 


1 84  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

I  am  sending  out.  You  see,  I  warn  people  against 
investing  in  stocks  and  bonds.  These  are  mere 
paper  securities,  which  take  to  themselves  wings 
and  fly  away.  But  if  you  can  get  hold  of  a  few 
acres  of  dirt,  there  you  are.  When  a  panic  comes 
along,  and  Wall  Street  goes  to  smash,  you  can 
sit  on  your  front  porch  in  South  Canaan  without 
a  care.  You  have  your  little  all  in  something  real. 

You  followed  the  same  line  of  argumentation. 
You  showed  that  there  was  nothing  imaginative 
about  your  work.  You  could  give  a  warranty 
deed  for  every  fact  which  you  put  on  the  market. 
I  was  so  pleased  with  your  method  that  I  bought 
a  job  lot  of  your  books,  so  that  I  could  see  for 
myself  how  you  conducted  your  business.  Will 
you  allow  me,  as  one  in  the  same  line,  to  indulge 
in  a  little  criticism  ?  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  mak 
ing  the  same  mistake  I  made  when  I  first  went 
into  real  estate.  I  was  so  possessed  with  the  idea  of 
the  value  of  land  that  I  became  "land  poor/'  It 
strikes  me  that  a  novelist  may  become  reality  poor 
in  the  same  way ;  that  is,  by  investing  in  a  great 
many  realities  that  are  not  worth  what  he  pays 
for  them. 

You  see,  there  is  a  fact  which  we  do  not  men- 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  185 

tion  in  our  circulars.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  land 
lying  out  of  doors.  Some  land  is  in  great  demand, 
and  the  real  trick  is  to  find  out  what  that  land  is. 
You  can't  go  out  on  the  plains  of  Wyoming  and 
give  an  acre  of  land  the  same  value  which  an 
acre  has  in  the  Wall  Street  district.  I  speak  from 
experience,  having  tried  to  convince  the  public 
that  if  the  acres  are  real,  the  values  I  suggested 
must  be  real  also.  People  would  n't  believe  me, 
and  I  lost  money. 

And  the  same  thing  is  true  about  improvements. 
They  must  be  related  to  the  market  value  of  the 
land  on  which  they  are  placed.  A  forty-story 
building  at  Goshenville  Corners  would  be  a  mis 
take.  There  is  no  call  for  it. 

This  is  the  mistake  which  I  fear  you  have  been 
making.  Your  novel  is  a  carefully  prepared  struc 
ture,  and  must  have  cost  a  great  deal,  but  it  is 
built  on  ground  which  is  not  worth  enough  to 
justify  the  investment.  It  has  not  what  we  call 
"site  value."  You  yourself  declare  that  you 
have  no  particular  interest  in  the  characters 
you  describe  at  such  length.  All  that  you  have 
to  say  for  them  is  that  they  are  real.  It  is  as  if  I 
were  to  put  up  an  expensive  apartment-house  on 


1 86  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

a  vacant  lot  I  have  at  North  Ovid.  North  Ovid 
is  real,  and  so  would  be  the  apartment-house ;  but 
what  of  it  *? 

There  are  ninety  millions  of  people  in  this 
country,  all  with  characters  which  might  be  care 
fully  studied,  if  we  had  time.  But  we  have  n't 
the  time.  So  we  have  to  choose  our  intimates. 
We  prefer  to  know  those  who  seem  to  us  most 
worth  knowing.  You  should  remember  that  the 
novelist  has  no  monopoly  on  realism.  The  news 
papers  are  full  of  all  sorts  of  realities.  The  his 
torian  is  a  keen  competitor. 

Do  you  know  that  when  I  went  to  the  book 
store  to  get  your  works  I  fell  in  with  a  book  on 
Garibaldi  by  a  man  named  Trevelyan.  When  I 
got  home  I  sat  down  with  it  and  could  n't  let  it 
go.  Garibaldi  was  all  the  time  doing  things, 
which  you  never  allow  your  characters  to  do  be 
cause  you  think  they  would  not  be  real.  He  was 
acting  in  the  most  romantic  and  heroic  manner 
possible.  And  his  Thousand  trooped  after  him  as 
gayly  as  if  they  were  in  a  melodrama.  And  yet 
I  understand  that  Garibaldi  was  a  real  person,  and 
that  his  exploits  can  be  authenticated. 

The  competition  in  your  line  of  business  is 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  187 

fierce.  You  try  to  hold  the  reader's  attention  to 
the  states  of  mind  of  a  few  futile  persons  who 
never  did  anything  in  particular  that  would  make 
people  want  to  know  them  exhaustively.  And 
then  along  comes  the  historian  who  tells  all  about 
some  one  who  does  things  they  are  interested  in. 

You  can't  wonder  at  the  result.  People  who 
ought  to  be  interested  in  fiction  are  carried  away 
by  biography,  and  the  chances  are  that  some  of 
them  will  never  come  back.  When  they  once 
get  a  taste  for  highly  spiced  intellectual  victuals, 
you  can't  get  them  to  relish  the  breakfast  food 
you  set  before  them.  It  seems  to  them  insipid, 

I  know  what  you  will  say  about  Garibaldi. 
He  was  not  your  kind.  You  would  n't  touch 
such  a  character  if  it  was  offered  to  you  at  a  bar 
gain.  After  looking  over  that  expedition  to  Sicily 
you  would  say  that  there  was  nothing  in  it  for 
you.  The  motives  were  n't  complicated  enough. 
It  was  just  plain  heroics.  You  don't  care  so  much 
for  passions  as  for  problems.  You  want  some 
thing  to  analyze. 

Well,  what  do  you  say  to  Cavour  ?  When  I 
was  deep  in  Garibaldi  I  found  I  could  n't  un 
derstand  what  he  was  driving  at  without  know- 


1 88  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

ing  something  about  Cavour  who  was  always 
mixed  up  with  what  was  going  on  in  that  section 
of  the  world. 

So  I  took  up  a  Life  of  Cavour  by  a  man 
named  Thayer.  It  's  the  way  I  have  ;  one  thing 
suggests  another.  Once  I  went  up  to  Duluth  and 
invested  in  some  corner  lots  on  Superior  Street. 
That  suggested  Superior  City,  just  across  the 
river.  The  two  towns  were  running  each  other 
down  at  a  great  rate  just  then,  so  I  stopped  at 
West  Superior  to  see  what  it  had  to  say  for  itself. 
The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that  I  sized  up 
the  situation  about  like  this.  A  big  city  has  got 
to  grow  up  at  the  head  of  Lake  Superior.  If 
Duluth  grows  as  much  as  it  thinks  it  will,  it  Js 
bound  to  take  in  Superior.  And  if  Superior 
grows  as  much  as  it  thinks  it  will,  it  can't  help 
taking  in  Duluth.  So  I  concluded  that  the  best 
thing  for  me  was  to  take  a  flier  in  both. 

When  I  saw  what  a  big  proposition  the  Uni 
fication  of  Italy  was,  I  knew  that  there  was  room 
for  the  development  of  some  mighty  interesting 
characters  before  they  got  through  with  the  busi 
ness.  So  I  plunged  into  the  Life  of  Cavour,  and 
I  've  never  regretted  it. 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  189 

Talk  about  problems  !  That  hero  of  yours  in 
your  last  book  —  I  know  you  don't  believe  in 
heroes,  —  at  any  rate,  the  leading  man  —  was  an 
innocent  child  walking  with  his  nurse  along  Easy 
Street,  when  compared  with  Cavour.  Cavour 
had  fifty  problems  at  the  same  time,  and  all  of 
them  were  insoluble  to  every  one  except  himself. 

His  project,  as  I  have  just  told  you,  was  the 
unification  of  Italy.  But  he  had  n't  any  regulated 
monopoly  in  the  business.  A  whole  bunch  of 
unifiers  were  ahead  of  him ;  each  one  of  them 
was  trying  to  unify  Italy  in  his  own  way.  They 
were  all  working  at  cross-purposes. 

Now  Cavour  did  n't  try,  as  you  might  have 
expected,  to  reconcile  these  people.  He  saw  that 
it  could  n't  be  done.  He  did  n't  mind  their  hat 
ing  one  another  ;  when  they  got  too  peaceable  he 
would  make  an  occasion  for  them  to  hate  him. 
He  kept  them  all  irreconcilably  at  work,  till,  in 
spite  of  themselves,  they  got  to  working  together. 
And  when  they  began  to  do  that,  Cavour  would 
encourage  them  in  it.  As  long  as  they  were  all 
working  for  Italy  he  did  n't  care  what  they 
thought  of  each  other  or  of  him.  He  had  his  eye 
on  the  main  chance  —  for  Italy. 


190  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

I  notice  that  in  your  novel,  when  your  man 
got  into  trouble  he  threw  up  the  sponge.  That 
rather  turned  me  against  him  and  I  wished  I 
had  n't  wasted  so  much  time  on  his  affairs.  That 
was  n't  the  way  with  Thayer's  hero.  One  of  the 
largest  deals  Cavour  ever  made  was  with  Napo 
leon  III,  who  at  that  time  had  the  reputation  of 
being  the  biggest  promoter  of  free  institutions  in 
Europe.  He  was  a  regular  wizard  in  diplomacy. 
Whatever  he  said  went.  You  see  they  had  n't 
realized  then  that  he  was  doing  business  on  bor 
rowed  capital. 

Well,  Napoleon  agreed  to  underwrite,  for  Ca 
vour,  the  whole  project  of  Italian  Unity.  Every 
body  thought  it  was  going  through  all  right,  when 
suddenly  Napoleon,  from  a  place  called  Villa- 
franca,  wired  that  the  deal  was  off. 

That  floored  Cavour.  He  was  down  and  out. 
He  could  n't  realize  ten  cents  on  the  dollar  on  his 
securities.  If  he  had  been  like  your  man,  Thayer 
would  have  had  to  bring  his  book  to  an  end  with 
that  chapter.  He  would  have  left  the  reader 
plunged  in  gloom. 

Cavour  was  mad  for  awhile  and  went  up  to 
Switzerland  to  cool  off.  Thayer  describes  the  way 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  191 

he  went  up  to  a  friend's  house,  near  Lake  Geneva, 
with  his  coat  on  his  arm.  "  Unannounced,  he 
strode  into  the  drawing-room,  threw  himself 
into  an  easy-chair,  and  asked  for  a  glass  of  iced 
water." 

Then  he  poured  out  his  wrath  over  the  Villa- 
franca  incident,  but  he  did  n't  waste  much  time 
over  that.  In  a  few  moments  he  was  enthusiast 
ically  telling  of  the  new  projects  he  had  formed. 
"  We  must  not  look  back,  but  forward,"  he  told 
his  friends.  "  We  have  followed  one  road.  It  is 
blocked.  Very  well,  we  will  follow  another." 

That's  the  kind  of  man  Cavour  was.  You 
forgot  that  he  was  a  European  statesman.  When 
you  saw  him  with  his  coat  off,  drinking  ice- 
water  and  talking  about  the  future,  you  felt  to 
ward  him  just  as  you  would  toward  a  first-rate 
American  who  was  of  Presidential  size. 

Now,  I  'm  not  saying  that  there  's  any  more 
realism  to  the  square  inch  in  a  Life  of  Cavour 
than  in  a  Life  of  Napoleon  III.  It  would  take  as 
much  labor  on  the  part  of  a  biographer  to  tell 
what  Napoleon  III  really  was  as  to  tell  what 
Cavour  really  was — perhaps  more.  But  you  come 
up  against  the  law  of  supply  and  demand.  You 


1 92  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

can't  get  around  that.  There  is  n't  much  inquiry 
for  Napoleon,  now  that  his  boom  is  over. 

The  way  Thayer  figured  it  was,  I  suppose, 
something  like  this.  It  would  take  eight  or  ten 
years  to  assemble  the  materials  for  a  first-rate 
biography  such  as  he  wished  to  make.  If  he 
chose  Napoleon  there  would  be  steady  deteriora 
tion  in  the  property,  and  when  the  improvements 
were  put  on  there  would  be  no  demand.  If  he 
put  the  same  work  on  Cavour,  he  would  get  the 
unearned  increment.  I  think  he  showed  his  sense. 

Of  course  the  biographer  has  the  advantage  of 
you  in  one  important  particular.  He  knows  how 
his  story  is  coming  out.  In  a  way,  he  's  betting 
on  a  certainty.  Now  you,  as  I  judge,  don't  know 
how  your  story  is  coming  out,  and  if  it  doesn't 
come  out,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  say  that  is  the 
way  you  meant  it  to  be.  You  cut  off  so  many 
square  feet  of  reality,  and  let  it  go  at  that.  Now 
that  is  very  convenient  for  you,  but  from  the 
reader's  point  of  view,  it 's  unsatisfactory.  It 
mixes  him  up,  and  he  feels  a  grudge  against  you 
whenever  he  thinks  how  much  better  he  might 
have  spent  his  time  than  in  following  a  plot  that 
came  to  nothing.  You  see  you  are  running  up 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  193 

against  that  same  law  of  supply  and  demand. 
There  are  so  many  failures  in  the  world  that  the 
market  is  overstocked  with  them.  There  is  a 
demand  for  successes. 

When  I  was  in  an  old  house  which  I  took  on 
the  foreclosure  of  a  mortgage  the  other  day,  I 
came  upon  a  little  old  novel,  of  a  hundred  years 
ago.  It  was  the  sentimental  kind  that  you  de 
spise.  It  was  called  "  Alonzo  and  Melissa,"  which 
was  enough  to  condemn  it  in  your  eyes.  But  the 
preface  seemed  to  me  to  have  some  sense. 

The  author  says  :  "  It  is  believed  that  this  story 
contains  no  indecorous  stimulants,  nor  is  it  filled 
with  inexplicated  incidents  imperceptible  to  the 
understanding.  When  anxieties  have  been  ex 
cited  by  involved  and  doubtful  events,  they  are 
afterwards  elucidated  by  their  consequences.  In 
this  the  writer  believes  that  he  has  generally 
copied  Nature." 

I  have  a  feeling  that  those  inexplicated  inci 
dents  in  your  novel  might  have  been  elucidated 
by  their  consequences  if  you  had  chosen  a  person 
whose  actions  were  of  the  kind  to  have  some  im 
portant  consequences.  In  tying  up  to  an  incon 
sequential  person  you  lost  that  chance. 


i94  ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT 

I  don't  mean  to  discourage  you,  because  I  be 
lieve  you  have  it  in  you  to  make  a  novel  that 
would  be  as  interesting  as  half  the  biographies 
that  are  written.  But  you  must  learn  a  trick  from 
the  successful  biographers,  and  not  invest  in 
second-rate  realities.  The  best  is  none  too  good. 
You  have  to  exercise  judgment  in  your  initial 
investment. 

Now,  if  I  were  going  to  build  a  realistic  novel, 
and  had  as  much  skill  in  detail  as  you  have,  and 
as  much  intellectual  capital  to  invest,  I  would  go 
right  down  to  the  business  centre,  so  to  speak, 
and  invest  in  a  really  valuable  piece  of  reality; 
and  then  I  would  develop  it.  The  first  invest 
ment  might  seem  pretty  steep,  but  it  would  pay 
in  the  end.  If  you  could  get  a  big  man,  enthu 
siastic  over  a  big  cause,  in  conflict  with  big 
forces,  and  bring  in  a  lot  of  worth-while  people  to 
back  him  up,  and  then  bring  the  whole  thing  to 
some  big  conclusion,  you  would  have  a  novel 
that  would  be  as  real  as  the  biographies  I  have 
been  reading,  and  as  interesting.  I  think  it  would 
be  worth  trying. 

Respectfully  yours, 

R.  S.  LANDMANN. 


ON  REALISM  AS  AN  INVESTMENT  195 

P.  S.  If  you  don't  feel  that  you  can  afford  to 
make  such  a  heavy  investment  as  I  have  suggested, 
why  don't  you  put  your  material  into  a  short 
story  ? 


TO  A  CITIZEN  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 


OUR  talk  last  night  set  me  to  thinking.  It 
was  the  first  time  during  all  the  years  of 
our  acquaintance  that  I  had  ever  heard  you  speak 
in  a  discouraged  tone.  You  have  always  been 
healthy  to  a  fault,  and  your  good-humor  has 
been  contagious.  Especially  has  it  been  pleasant 
to  hear  you  talk  about  the  country  and  its  Mani 
fest  Destiny. 

I  remember,  some  years  ago,  how  merrily  you 
used  to  laugh  about  the  "  calamity-howler,"  whose 
habitat  at  that  time  was  Kansas.  The  farmers  of 
Kansas  were  not  then  as  prosperous  as  they  are 
now.  When  several  bad  years  came  together 
they  did  n't  like  it,  and  began  to  make  com 
plaints.  Their  raucous  cries  you  found  very 
amusing. 

The  calamity-howler,  being  ignorant  of  the 
laws  of  political  economy  and  of  the  conditions 
of  progress,  did  not  take  his  calamities  in  the 
spirit  in  which  they  were  offered  to  him  by  the 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN     197 

rest  of  the  country.  He  did  not  find  satisfaction 
in  the  thought  that  other  people  were  prosperous 
though  he  was  not.  Instead  of  acting  reasonably 
and  voting  the  straight  ticket  from  motives  of 
party  loyalty,  he  raised  all  sorts  of  irrelevant  issues. 
He  treated  Prosperity  as  if  it  were  a  local  issue, 
instead  of  a  plank  in  the  National  Platform. 

Now,  all  this  was  opposed  to  your  good-na 
tured  philosophy  of  progress.  You  were  emi 
nently  practical,  and  it  was  a  part  of  your  creed 
never  to  "go  behind  the  returns."  As  to  Pros 
perity,  it  was  "  first  come,  first  served."  In  this 
land  of  opportunity  the  person  who  first  sees  an 
opportunity  should  take  it,  asking  no  questions  as 
to  why  he  came  by  it.  It  is  his  by  right  of  dis 
covery. 

You  were  always  a  great  believer  in  the  good 
old  American  doctrine  of  Manifest  Destiny. 
This  was  a  big  country  and  destined  to  grow  big 
ger.  To  you  bigness  was  its  own  excuse  for  being. 
Optimism  was  as  natural  as  breathing.  It  was 
manifest  destiny  that  cities  and  corporations  and 
locomotives  and  armies  and  navies  and  national 
debts  and  daily  newspapers,  with  their  Sunday 
supplements,  and  bank  clearances  and  tariffs  and 


i98    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

insurance  companies  and  the  price  of  living 
should  go  up.  It  was  all  according  to  a  beautiful 
natural  law,  "as  fire  ascending  seeks  the  sun." 
Besides  these  things,  it  was  manifest  destiny  that 
other  things  not  so  good  should  grow  bigger  also, 
—  graft  and  slums  and  foolish  luxury.  They 
were  all  involved  in  the  increasing  bigness  of 
things. 

Sometimes  you  would  grumble  about  them, 
but  in  a  good-natured  way,  as  one  who  recognized 
their  inevitability.  Just  as  you  said,  boys  will  be 
boys,  so  you  said,  politicians  will  be  politicians, 
and  business  is  business.  If  one  is  living  in  a 
growing  country  he  must  not  begrudge  the  cost 
of  the  incidentals. 

In  your  talk  there  was  a  cheerful  cynicism 
which  amazed  the  slower-witted  foreigner.  You 
talked  of  the  pickings  and  stealings  of  your 
elected  officers  as  you  would  of  the  pranks  of  a 
precocious  youngster.  It  was  all  a  part  of  the 
day's  growth.  Yet  you  were  really  public-spirited. 
You  would  have  sprung  to  arms  in  a  moment 
if  you  had  thought  that  your  country  was  in  dan 
ger  or  that  its  institutions  were  being  undermined. 

Your   good-natured   tolerance  was  a  part  of 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    199 

your  philosophy  of  life.  It  was  bound  up  in  your 
triumphant  Americanism.  You  were  a  hero- 
worshipper,  and  you  delighted  in  "big  men." 
The  big  men  who  gained  the  prizes  were  efficient 
and  unscrupulous  and  unassuming;  that  is,  they 
never  assumed  to  be  better  than  their  neighbors. 
They  looked  ahead,  they  saw  how  things  were 
going,  and  went  with  them.  And  on  the  whole, 
things,  you  believed,  were  going  well.  Though 
they  were  not  scrupulously  just,  these  big  men 
were  generous,  and  were  willing  to  give  away 
what  they  had  acquired.  Though  grasping,  they 
were  not  avaricious.  They  grasped  things  with 
the  strong  prehensile  grasp  of  the  infant,  rather 
than  with  the  clutch  of  the  miser.  They  took  them 
because  they  were  there,  and  not  because  they 
had  any  well-defined  idea  as  to  whether  they  be 
longed  to  them  or  not. 

These  big  men  were  very  likable.  They  were 
engrossed  in  big  projects,  and  they  were  doing 
necessary  work  in  the  development  of  the  country. 
They  naturally  took  the  easiest  and  most  direct 
methods  to  get  at  results.  They  would  not  go  out 
of  the  way  to  corrupt  a  legislature  any  more  than 
they  would  go  out  of  the  way  to  find  a  range  of 


200    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

mountains.  But  if  the  mountain  stood  in  the  way 
of  the  railroad,  they  would  go  through  it  regard 
less  of  expense.  If  the  legislature  was  in  their  way, 
they  would  deal  with  it  as  best  they  could.  They 
were  willing  to  pay  what  it  cost  to  accomplish  a 
purpose  which  they  believed  was  good. 

Their  attitude  toward  the  Public  was  one  which 
you  did  not  criticize,  for  it  seemed  to  you  to  be 
reasonable.  The  Public  was  an  abstraction,  like 
Nature.  We  are  all  under  the  laws  of  Nature.  But 
Nature  does  n't  mind  whether  we  consciously  obey 
or  not.  She  goes  her  way,  and  we  go  ours.  We 
get  all  she  will  let  us  have.  So  with  the  Public. 
The  Public  was  not  regarded  as  a  person  or  as 
an  aggregate  of  persons,  it  was  the  potentiality  of 
wealth.  They  never  thought  of  the  Public  as 
being  starved  or  stunted,  or  even  as  being 
seriously  inconvenienced  because  of  what  they 
took  from  it,  any  more  than  they  thought  of  Na 
ture  being  the  poorer  because  of  the  electricity 
which  they  induced  to  run  along  their  wires.  A 
public  franchise  was  a  plum  growing  on  a  con 
venient  tree.  A  wise  man  would  wait  till  it  was 
ripe  and  then,  when  no  one  was  looking,  would 
pick  it  for  himself.  The  whole  transaction  was  a 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    201 

trial  of  wits  between  rival  pickers.  A  special 
privilege,  according  to  this  view,  involved  no 
special  obligations;  it  was  a  reward  for  special 
abilities.  Once  given,  it  was  property  to  be  en 
joyed  in  perpetuity. 

This  was  the  code  of  ethics  which  you,  in  com 
mon  with  multitudes  of  American  citizens,  ac 
cepted.  You  have  yourself  prospered.  Indeed, 
things  had  gone  so  well  with  you  in  this  best  of 
all  countries  that  any  fundamental  change  seemed 
unthinkable. 

But  that  a  change  has  come  seems  evident 
from  your  conversation  last  night.  All  that  fine 
optimism  which  your  friends  have  admired 
seemed  to  have  deserted  you.  There  was  a  queru 
lous  note  which  was  strangely  out  of  keeping 
with  your  usual  disposition.  It  was  what  you  have 
been  accustomed  to  stigmatize  as  un-American. 
When  you  discussed  the  present  state  of  the  coun 
try,  you  talked  —  you  will  pardon  me  for  saying 
it  —  for  all  the  world  like  a  calamity-howler. 

The  country,  you  said,  is  in  a  bad  way,  and  it 
must  be  awakened  from  its  lethargy.  After  a 
period  of  unexampled  prosperity  and  marvelous 
development,  something  has  happened.  Just  what 


202    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

it  is  you  don't  really  know,  but  it 's  very  alarm 
ing.  Instead  of  working  together  for  Prosperity, 
the  people  are  listening  to  demagogues,  and  try 
ing  all  sorts  of  experiments,  half  of  which  you 
are  sure  are  unconstitutional.  The  captains  of  in 
dustry  who  have  made  this  the  biggest  country 
in  the  world  are  thwarted  in  their  plans  for  fur 
ther  expansion. 

There  are  people  who  are  criticizing  the  courts, 
and  there  are  courts  which  are  criticizing  busi 
ness  enterprises  that  they  don't  understand.  There 
are  so-called  experts  —  mere  college  professors 
—  who  are  tinkering  the  tariff.  There  are  over- 
zealous  executives  who  are  currying  favor  with 
the  crowd  by  enforcing  laws  which  are  well 
enough  on  the  statute  books,  but  which  were 
never  meant  to  go  further.  As  if  matters  were 
not  bad  enough  already,  there  are  demagogues 
who  are  stirring  up  class  feeling  by  proposing 
new  laws.  Party  loyalty  is  being  undermined, 
and  the  new  generation  does  n't  half  understand 
the  great  issues  which  have  been  settled  for  all 
time.  It  is  rashly  interested  in  new  issues.  For 
the  life  of  you,  you  say,  you  can't  understand 
what  these  issues  are. 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    203 

New  and  divisive  questions  which  lead  only  to 
faction  are  propounded  so  that  the  voters  are  con 
fused.  The  great  principle  of  Representative  Gov 
ernment,  on  which  the  Republic  was  founded,  is 
being  attacked.  Instead  of  choosing  experienced 
men  to  direct  public  policy,  there  is  an  appeal 
to  the  passions  of  the  mob.  The  result  of  all  this 
agitation  is  an  unsettlement  that  paralyzes  busi 
ness.  The  United  States  is  in  danger  of  losing 
the  race  for  commercial  supremacy.  Germany 
will  forge  ahead  of  us.  Japan  will  catch  us.  So 
cialism  and  the  Yellow  Peril  will  be  upon  us. 
The  Man  on  Horseback  will  appear,  and  what 
shall  we  do  then  ? 

I  did  not  understand  whether  you  looked  for 
these  perils  to  come  together,  or  whether  they 
were  to  appear  in  orderly  succession.  But  I  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  either  the  country  is  in  a 
bad  way,  or  you  are.  You  will  pardon  me  if  I 
choose  the  latter  alternative,  for  I  too  am  an  op 
timistic  American,  and  I  like  to  choose  the  lesser 
of  two  evils.  If  there  is  an  attack  of  "  hysteria," 
I  should  like  to  think  of  it  as  somewhat  localized, 
rather  than  having  suddenly  attacked  the  whole 
country. 


204    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

Now,  my  opinion  is  that  the  American  people 
were  never  minding  their  own  business  more 
good-humoredly  and  imperturbably  than  at  the 
present  moment.  They  have  been  slowly  and 
silently  making  up  their  minds,  and  now  they 
are  beginning  to  express  a  deliberate  judgment. 
What  you  take  to  be  the  noise  of  demagogues, 
I  consider  to  be  the  sober  sense  of  a  great  people 
which  is  just  finding  adequate  expression. 

You  seem  to  be  afraid  of  an  impending  revolu 
tion,  and  picture  it  as  a  sort  of  French  Revolu 
tion,  a  destructive  overturn  of  all  existing  insti 
tutions.  But  may  not  the  revolution  which  we 
are  passing  through  be  something  different,  —  a 
great  American  revolution,  which  is  being  carried 
through  in  the  characteristic  American  fashion? 

Walt  Whitman  expresses  the  great  character 
istic  of  American  history :  "  Here  is  what  moves 
in  magnificent  masses  careless  of  particulars." 

It  is  this  mass  movement,  slow  at  first,  but 
swift  and  irresistible  when  the  mass  has  come  to 
consciousness  of  its  own  tendency,  which  has  al 
ways  confounded  astute  persons  who  have  been 
interested  only  in  particulars.  It  is  a  movement 
like  that  of  the  Mississippi  at  flood-time.  The 


TO   THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    205 

great  river  flows  within  its  banks  as  long  as  it 
can.  But  the  time  comes  when  the  barriers  are 
too  frail  to  hold  back  the  mighty  waters.  Then 
the  river  makes,  very  quickly,  a  channel  for  it 
self.  You  cannot  understand  what  has  happened 
till  you  take  into  account  the  magnitude  of  the 
river  itself. 

Now,  the  successful  man  of  affairs,  who  has 
been  intent  on  the  incidents  of  the  passing  day, 
is  often  strangely  oblivious  of  the  mass  move 
ments.  You,  for  example,  are  disturbed  by  the 
unrest  which  is  manifest,  and  you  look  for  some 
one  whom  you  can  blame  for  the  disturbance. 
But  perhaps  no  one  is  to  blame. 

I  think  that  what  is  happening  may  be  traced 
to  a  sufficient  cause.  We  are  approaching  the 
end  of  one  great  era  in  American  history  and  we 
are  preparing,  as  best  we  may,  for  a  new  era.  The 
consciousness  of  the  magnitude  of  the  change 
has  come  to  us  rather  suddenly.  One  big  job 
which  has  absorbed  the  energies  and  stimulated 
the  ambition  of  Americans  for  three  hundred 
years  is  practically  finished.  Some  work  still  re 
mains  to  be  done  on  it,  but  it  no  longer  demands 
the  highest  ability.  The  end  is  in  sight. 


206     TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

This  work  has  been  the  settlement  of  a  vast 
territory,  lying  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific, 
with  a  population  of  white  men.  It  was  a  task  so 
big  in  itself  that  it  fired  the  imagination  and  de 
veloped  that  peculiar  type  of  character  which  we 
call  American.  In  its  outlines  the  task  was  so 
broad  and  simple  that  it  could  be  comprehended 
by  the  most  ordinary  intelligence.  It  was  so  in 
evitable  that  it  impressed  upon  all  those  engaged 
in  it  the  belief  in  Manifest  Destiny. 

What  has  been  treated  by  incompetent  critics 
as  mere  boastfulness  has  in  reality  been  practical 
sagacity  and  foresight.  Sam  Slick  was  only  ex 
pressing  a  truth  when  he  -said,  "  The  Yankees 
see  further  than  most  folks."  This  was  not  be 
cause  of  any  innate  cleverness  but  because  of 
their  advantage  in  position.  Americans  have  had 
a  more  unobstructed  view  of  the  future  than  had 
the  people  of  the  overcrowded  Old  World.  The 
settlers  on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic  had  behind 
them  a  region  which  belonged  to  them  and  their 
children.  They  soon  became  aware  of  the  riches 
of  this  hinterland  and  of  its  meaning  for  the  fu 
ture.  This  vast  region  must  be  settled.  Roads 
must  be  built  over  the  mountains,  the  forests 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    207 

must  be  felled,  mines  must  be  opened  up,  farms 
must  be  brought  under  the  plow,  great  cities  must 
be  built  by  the  rivers  and  lakes,  there  must  be 
schools  and  churches  and  markets  established 
where  now  the  tribes  of  Indians  roam.  The  sur 
plus  millions  of  Europe  must  be  transported  to 
this  wilderness. 

It  was  a  big  task  and  yet  a  simple  one.  The 
movement  was  as  obvious  as  that  of  Niagara  — 
Niagara  is  wonderful  but  inevitable.  A  great  deal 
of  water  flowing  over  a  great  deal  of  rock,  that  is 
all  there  is  of  it.  The  destiny  of  America  was 
equally  obvious  from  the  beginning,  Here  was  a 
great  deal  of  land  which  was  destined  to  be  in 
habited  by  a  great  many  people.  It  did  n't  matter 
very  much  what  kind  of  people  they  were  so  that 
they  were  healthy  and  industrious.  The  greatness 
of  the  country  was  assured  if  only  there  were 
enough  of  them. 

From  the  very  first  the  future  greatness  of  the 
land  was  seen  by  open-eyed  explorers.  They  all 
were  able  to  appreciate  it.  Captain  John  Smith 
does  not  compare  Virginia  with  Great  Britain;  he 
compares  it  to  the  whole  of  Europe.  After  men 
tioning  the  natural  resources  of  each  country,  he 


208     TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

declares  that  the  new  land  had  all  these  and 
more,  and  needed  only  men  to  develop  them. 
And  Captain  John  Smith's  forecast  has  proved 
to  be  correct. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  last  century,  a  party  of 
twenty  young  men  from  Cambridge,  Massachu 
setts,  started  on  what  at  that  time  was  a  great 
adventure,  the  overland  journey  to  Oregon.  The 
preface  to  Wyeth's  "  Oregon  Expedition  "  throws 
light  on  the  ideas  of  those  who  were  not  states 
men  or  captains  of  industry,  but  only  plain 
American  citizens  sharing  the  vision  which  was 
common. 

"The  spot  where  our  adventurer  was  born  and 
grew  up  had  many  peculiar  and  desirable  advan 
tages  over  most  others  in  the  County  of  Middle 
sex.  Besides  rich  pasturage,  numerous  dairies, 
and  profitable  orchards,  it  possessed  the  luxuries 
of  well-cultivated  gardens  of  all  sorts  of  culinary 
vegetables,  and  all  within  three  miles  of  Boston 
Market  House,  and  two  miles  of  the  largest  live- 
cattle  market  in  New  England."  Besides  these 
blessings  there  is  enumerated  "  a  body  of  water 
commonly  called  Fresh  Pond." 

"  But  Mr.  Wyeth  said,  '  All  this  availeth  me 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    209 

nothing,  so  long  as  I  read  books  in  which  I  find 
that  by  going  only  about  four  thousand  miles 
overland,  from  the  shore  of  our  Atlantic  to  the 
shore  of  the  Pacific,  after  we  have  there  entrapped 
and  killed  the  beavers  and  otters,  we  shall  be 
able,  after  building  vessels  for  the  purpose,  to 
carry  our  most  valuable  peltry  to  China  and 
Cochin  China,  our  sealskins  to  Japan,  and  our 
superfluous  grain  to  various  Asiatic  ports,  and 
lumber  to  the  Spanish  settlements  on  the  Pa 
cific  ;  and  to  become  rich  by  underworking  and 
underselling  the  people  of  Hindustan;  and, 
to  crown  all,  to  extend  far  and  wide  the  traffic 
in  oil,  by  killing  tame  whales  on  the  spot,  in 
stead  of  sailing  around  the  stormy  region  of 
Cape  Horn.' 

"All  these  advantages  and  more  were  sug 
gested  to  divers  discontented  and  impatient  young 
men.  Talk  to  them  of  the  great  labor,  toil,  risk, 
and  they  would  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  you ;  argue  with 
them  and  you  might  as  well  reason  with  a  snow 
storm." 

If  you  would  understand  the  driving  power 
of  America,  you  must  understand  "  the  divers 
discontented  and  impatient  young  men  "  who  in 


2io    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

each  generation  have  found  in  the  American 
wilderness  an  outlet  for  their  energies.  In  the 
rough  contacts  with  untamed  Nature  they  learned 
to  be  resourceful.  Emerson  declared  that  the 
country  went  on  most  satisfactorily,  not  when  it 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  respectable  Whigs,  but 
when  in  the  hands  of  "  these  rough  riders  —  legis 
lators  in  shirt-sleeves  —  Hoosier,  Sucker,  Wolver 
ine,  Badger — or  whatever  hard-head  Arkansas, 
Oregon,  or  Utah  sends,  half-orator,  half-assassin,  to 
represent  its  wrath  and  cupidity  at  Washington." 

The  men  who  made  America  had  an  "  excess  of 
virility."  "  Men  of  this  surcharge  of  arterial  blood 
cannot  live  on  nuts,  herb-tea,  and  elegies;  can 
not  read  novels  and  play  whist ;  cannot  satisfy 
all  their  wants  at  the  Thursday  Lecture  and  the 
Boston  Athenaeum.  They  pine  for  adventure 
and  must  go  to  Pike's  Peak ;  had  rather  die  by 
the  hatchet  of  the  Pawnee  than  sit  all  day  and 
every  day  at  the  counting-room  desk.  They  are 
made  for  war,  for  the  sea,  for  mining,  hunting, 
and  clearing,  and  the  joy  of  eventful  living." 

In  Emerson's  day  there  was  ample  scope  for 
all  these  varied  energies  on  the  frontier.  "  There 
are  Oregons,  Californias,  and  Exploring  Expedi- 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    211 

tions  enough  appertaining  to  America  to  find 
them  in  files  to  gnaw  and  crocodiles  to  eat." 

But  it  must  have  occurred  to  some  one  to 
ask,  "  What  will  happen  when  the  Oregons  and 
Californias  are  filled  up  ?  "  Well,  the  answer  is, 
"See  what  is  happening  now."  Instead  of  settling 
down  to  herb-tea  and  elegies,  Young  America, 
having  finished  one  big  job,  is  looking  for  an 
other.  The  noises  which  disturb  you  are  not  the 
cries  of  an  angry  proletariat,  but  are  the  shouts 
of  eager  young  fellows  who  are  finding  new  op 
portunities.  They  have  the  same  desire  to  do 
big  things,  the  same  joy  in  eventful  living,  that 
you  had  thirty  years  ago.  Only  the  tasks  that 
challenge  them  have  taken  a  different  form. 

When  you  hear  the  words  "Conservation," 
"  Social  Service,"  "  Social  Justice,"  and  the  like, 
you  are  apt  to  dismiss  them  as  mere  fads.  You 
think  of  the  catchwords  of  ineffective  reformers 
whom  you  have  known  from  your  youth.  But 
the  fact  is  that  they  represent  to-day  the  enthusi 
asms  of  a  new  generation.  They  are  big  things, 
with  big  men  behind  them.  They  represent  the 
Oregons  and  Californias  toward  which  sturdy 
pioneers  are  moving,  undeterred  by  obstacles. 


212    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

The  live  questions  to-day  concern  not  the 
material  so  much  as  the  moral  development  of 
the  nation.  For  it  is  seen  that  the  future  welfare 
of  the  people  depends  on  the  creation  of  a  finer 
type  of  civic  life.  Is  this  still  to  be  a  land  of 
opportunity  *?  Ninety  millions  of  people  are  al 
ready  here.  What  shall  be  done  with  the  next 
ninety  millions?  That  wealth  is  to  increase  goes 
without  saying.  But  how  is  it  to  be  distributed  *? 
Are  we  tending  to  a  Plutocracy,  or  can  a  real 
Democracy  hold  its  own  ?  Powerful  machinery 
has  been  invented.  How  can  this  machinery  be 
controlled  and  used  for  truly  human  ends  ?  We 
have  learned  the  economies  that  result  from 
organization.  Who  is  to  get  the  benefit  of  these 
economies  ? 

So  long  as  such  questions  were  merely  acade 
mic,  practical  persons  like  yourself  paid  little 
attention  to  them.  Now  they  are  being  asked  by 
persons  as  practical  as  yourself  who  are  intent 
on  l  getting  results.'  And  what  is  more,  they  em 
ploy  the  instruments  of  precision  furnished  by 
modern  science. 

You  have  been  pleased  over  the  millions  of 
dollars  which  have  been  lavished  on  education. 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    213 

The  fruits  of  this  are  now  being  seen.  Hosts  of 
able  young  men  have  been  studying  Govern 
ment  and  Sociology  and  Economics  and  His 
tory.  These  have  been  the  most  popular  courses 
in  all  our  colleges.  And  they  have  been  studied 
in  a  new  way.  The  old  formulas  and  the  old 
methods  have  been  fearlessly  criticized.  New 
standards  of  efficiency  have  been  presented.  The 
scientific  method  has  been  extended  to  the  sphere 
of  moral  relations.  It  has  been  demonstrated  to 
these  young  men  that  the  resources  of  the  coun 
try  may  be  indefinitely  increased  by  the  continu 
ous  application  of  trained  intelligence  to  definite 
ends.  The  old  Malthusian  doctrine  has  given 
way  before  applied  science.  The  population  may 
be  doubled  and  the  standard  of  living  increased 
at  the  same  time,  if  we  plan  intelligently.  The 
expert  can  serve  the  public  as  efficiently  as  he 
has  served  private  interests,  if  only  the  public 
can  be  educated  to  appreciate  him,  and  persuaded 
to  employ  him. 

This  is  what  the  "  social  unrest "  means  in 
America.  It  is  not  the  unrest  of  the  weak  and  the 
unsuccessful.  It  is  the  unrest  of  the  strong  and 
ambitious.  You  cannot  still  it  by  talking  about 


2i4    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

prosperity :  of  course  we  are  prosperous,  after  a 
fashion,  but  it  is  a  fashion  that  no  longer  pleases 
us.  We  want  something  better  and  we  propose 
to  get  it.  What  disturbs  you  is  the  appearance  in 
force  of  a  generation  that  has  turned  its  attention 
to  a  new  set  of  problems,  and  is  attempting  to 
solve  them  by  scientific  methods.  It  is  believed 
that  there  is  a  Science  of  Government  as  well  as 
an  Art  of  Politics.  The  new  generation  has  a 
respect,  born  of  experience,  for  the  expert.  It 
seeks  the  man  who  knows  rather  than  the  clever 
manager.  It  demands  of  public  servants  not 
simply  that  they  be  honest,  but  that  they  be  effi 
cient. 

Its  attitude  to  the  political  boss  is  decidedly 
less  respectful  than  that  to  which  you  were  accus 
tomed.  You  looked  upon  him  as  a  remarkably 
astute  character,  and  you  attributed  to  him  an 
uncanny  ability  to  forecast  the  future.  These 
young  men  have  discovered  that  his  ability  is  only 
a  vulgar  error.  Remove  the  conditions  created  by 
public  indifference  and  ignorance,  and  he  vanishes. 
In  restoring  power  to  the  people,  they  find  that 
a  hundred  useful  things  can  be  done  which  the 
political  wiseacres  declared  to  be  impossible. 


TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN    215 

When  I  consider  the  new  and  vigorous  forces 
in  American  life  I  cannot  agree  with  your  appre 
hensions;  but  there  is  one  thing  which  you  said 
with  which  I  heartily  agree.  You  said  that  you 
wished  we  might  settle  down  to  sound  and  con 
structive  work,  and  get  rid  of  the  "  muck-raker." 

I  agree  with  you  that  the  muck-raker  stands  in 
the  way  of  large  plans  for  betterment.  But  it 
might  be  well  to  refresh  our  minds  in  regard  to 
what  is  really  meant  by  the  man  with  the  muck 
rake.  He  is  not  the  man  who  draws  our  attention 
to  abuses  which  can  be  abolished  by  determined 
effort.  He  is  the  man  who  apologizes  for  abuses 
that  are  profitable  to  himself.  He  prefers  his  petty 
interests  to  any  ideal  good.  His  character  was 
most  admirably  drawn  by  Bunyan:  — 

"  The  Interpreter  takes  them  apart  again,  and 
has  them  first  into  a  room  where  was  a  man  that 
could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a  muck 
rake  in  his  hand.  There  stood  also  one  over  his 
head  with  a  celestial  crown  in  His  hand,  and  prof 
fered  him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake,  but  the 
man  did  neither  look  up  nor  regard,  but  raked  to 
himself  the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and  the  dust 
of  the  floor. 


216    TO  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  CITIZEN 

"'Then/  said  Christiana,  'I  persuade  myself 
that  I  know  somewhat  the  meaning  of  this;  for 
this  is  the  figure  of  a  man  of  this  world,  is  it  not, 
good  sir?' 

"'Thou  hast  said  right,'  said  he.  ... 

"'Then,'  said  Christiana,  'O  deliver  me  from 
this  muck-rake.' 

" '  That  prayer,'  said  the  Interpreter,  '  has  lain 
by  till  it  is  almost  rusty.  "Give  me  not  riches," 
is  scarce  the  prayer  of  one  in  ten  thousand.'" 

The  man  with  the  muck-rake,  then,  is  one  who 
can  look  no  way  but  downward,  and  is  so  intent 
on  collecting  riches  for  himself  that  he  does  not 
see  or  regard  any  higher  interests.  I  agree  with 
you  that  if  we  are  to  have  any  constructive  work 
in  American  society  the  first  thing  is  to  get  rid 
of  the  man  with  the  muck-rake,  and  to  put  in 
his  place  the  Man  with  a  Vision. 

THE    END 


(Cftc 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .   S    .   A 


THE  CORNER  OF 
HARLEY  STREET 

Being  some  familiar  correspondence  of 

PETER  HARDING,  M.D. 


"A  fair  criticism,  a  complete  defence,  and  some 
high  praise  of  the  doctoring  trade."  — London  Punch. 

"The  book  is  ripe,  well  written,  thoughtful,  piquant 
and  highly  human.  A  thread  of  romance- runs  happily 
through  it."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"There  is  nothing  upon  which  the  genial  Dr. 
Harding  has  not  something  to  say  that  is  worth  listen 
ing  to."  — London  Daily  Mail. 

"The  publishers  of  'The  Corner  of  Harley  Street' 
are  really  justified  in  comparing  these  critical  papers 
with  Dr.  Holmes'  'The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast 
Table.'  .  .  .  They  are  charmingly  discursive,  often 
witty,  and  always  full  of  a  genial  sympathy  with 
humanity  and  the  significant  facts  of  life." — The 
Outlook. 

$1.25  net.     Postage  n  cents. 


HOUGHTON  /<$£&>  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /^\TS  AND 

COMPANY  f^V°'l)  NEW  YORK 


PEOPLE  OF  POPHAM 

By  MARY  C.  E.  WEMYSS 


"  As  vivid  in  its  way  as  '  Cranford.'  " — Boston  Tran 
script. 

"  One  of  the  most  charming  chronicles  of  village 
life  ever  written." — Living  Age. 

"  Such  a  book  as  this  may  be  read  aloud  evening 
after  evening,  with  recurrent  zest,  with  enjoyment  of 
its  humor,  its  quaint  and  human  personages  as  they 
take  their  unhurried  way  through  agreeable  pages." — 
Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

"  A  book  which  will  give  many  readers  a  rare  plea 
sure."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  A  sort  of  modern  '  Cranford/  good  to  read  all  the 
way  through." — Minneapolis  Journal. 

Illustrated.     $1.20  net.     Postage  1 1  cents, 


HOUGHTON  7^2S.  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /oSl  AND 

COMPANY  fc\ra  NEW  YORK 


A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 


By  JOSEPH  HUSBAND 


"  Mr.  Husband  enables  the  reader  to  carry 
away  a  vitalized  impression  of  a  coal-mine,  its 
working  and  its  workers,  and  a  grasp  of  vivid 
details."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  story  of  vivid  and  compelling  interest 
and  every  word  bears  the  impress  of  truth."  — 
Living  Age. 

"  Apart  from  its  informative  value,  this  is  a 
book  that  no  one  can  fail  to  enjoy."  —  Phila 
delphia  Press. 

"  A  refreshingly  frank  narrative."  —  New 
York  Sun. 


With  frontispiece.     $1.10  net.     Postage  9  cents. 


HOUGHTON  JSjj?  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /«£  AND 

COMPANY  mtefl  NEW  YORK 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  A 

RAILROAD  SIGNALMAN 

By  J.  O.  PAGAN 

"  Extremely  well  written  and  forcible." —  The  Outlook. 

"A  terrible  indictment  of  our  railway  management." 
—  New  York  Post. 

"  The  literature  of  the  day  contains  few  things  more 
interesting  than  these  confessions.  They  relate  to  rail 
road  accidents,  and  the  confessor  is  manifestly  a  man 
not  only  of  remarkable  discernment,  but  likewise  of 
rhetorical  skill."  —  Stone  and  Webster  Public  Service 
Journal. 

"Throws  much  light  on  the  frequency  of  railroad 
accidents  and  will  stimulate  serious  thought  on  the 
part  of  readers." —  Troy  Times. 

"Remarkable  and  interesting." — Boston  Herald. 

Illustrated  from  photographs.   I2mo,  $1.00  net. 

Postage  10  cents. 


HOUGHTON  /Ogb?-  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  J^SST  AND 

COMPANY  CBJra  NEW  YORK 


ROUTINE  AND  IDEALS 

BY  LE  BARON  R.  BRIGGS,  President  of  Rack 

cliffe  College. 

i6mo,  $1.00,  net.    Postage  9  cents. 

"  Common  sense  enriched  by  culture  de 
scribes  everything  which  Dean,  or,  as  he 
ought  now  to  be  called,  President,  Briggs 
says  or  writes.  The  genius  of  sanity,  sound 
judgment,  and  high  aim  seems  to  preside 
over  his  thought,  and  he  combines  in  an  un 
usual  degree  the  faculty  of  vision  and  the 
power  of  dealing  with  real  things  in  a  real 
way."  —  The  Outlook,  New  York. 

SCHOOL,  COLLEGE,  AND 
CHARACTER 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  ROUTINE  AND  IDEALS.** 
i6mo,  $1.00,  net.    Postage  8  cents. 

"  With  the  soundest  good  sense  and  with 
frequent  humorous  flashes,  Dean  Briggs 
takes  students  and  parents  into  his  confi 
dence,  and  shows  them  the  solution  of  col 
lege  problems  from  the  point  of  view,  not 
of  the  'office'  but  of  a  very  clear-think 
ing,  whole-souled  man  in  the  '  office  ' "  —  The 
World's  Work,  New  York. 

|)0ttgl)t0it  JHifflm  Company, 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


JOHN  PERCYFIELD 

By  C.  HANFORD  HENDERSON 


"John  Percyfield  is  twisted  of  a  double  thread  — 
delightful,  wise,  sunshiny  talks  on  the  lines  laid  down 
by  the  Autocrat,  and  an  autobiographical  love  story. 
It  is  full  of  wisdom  and  of  beauty,  of  delicate  delinea 
tion,  and  of  inspiring  sentiment." 

New  York  Times. 

"  Its  merits  will  rank  it  among  the  few  sterling 
books  of  the  day."  Boston  Transcript. 

"A  book  of  rare  charm  and  unusual  character  .  .  . 
fresh  and  sweet  in  tone  and  admirably  written 
throughout."  The  Outlook,  New  York. 


Crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $1.50 


HOUGHTON  fi&&*  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /SOk  AND 

COMPANY  fWKl  NEW  YORK 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE 
STAMPED  BEI.OW 


WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  cLr  *  PENALTY 

°AY    AND     T0     J.0 

OVERDUE.  ^  SEVENTH     DAY 


LD21-loOw-7,'33 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


